The False War
by DerelictTyrant
Summary: Hundreds of years can make a difference on the galactic scene; a violation of Council Law too. Ideals and agendas clash, as a different mankind and the galaxy meet each other. Old alliances are put to test and new pacts are forged, while the definitions of friend and foe become blurred. Alternate Universe.
1. Chance Encounter

**A/N:** So, I had a very interesting empire in Stellaris, and I wondered how it would fare in Mass Effect's Galaxy with its complicate, geopolitical and social situation. I used some mods too, be aware of that.

Also, this may have an offensive background, and elements too.

* * *

 _Citadel, Council Tower._

Councilor Irissa was enjoying her last dinner in the Citadel for this year, nothing like the last day of work to help alleviate the built up tension throughout the year.

Months surfing between several petitions from client races, Volus Council membership motions, Quarian pleas for repatriation and lifting of sanctions, numerous trade disputes between corporations, micro-states vying for power.

Not to mention the inter-species disputes between the three major powers, and the Batarians, to complete the mess.

She currently sat on her private office, eating her favored Southern Thessian salad along with a fine 40-year wine; the perks of being a member of the Citadel Council, simply enjoying the magnificent view the Citadel, cars flowing to and from up in the air, civilians beginning their night lives.

It was her 49th year as the Asari councilor, her 50th would have a special celebration for the jubilee; however, she knew the next year would be much like the closing one. A boring, tedious, tiring job only the most obstinate of the public servants would endure, all in the name of the Galactic well-being.

An obvious lie; the pay and the prestige made up for all the nuisances, and the day-to-day dealing with her colleagues, who pretended to care about their Council, but in name only stayed there for the advancement of their own species and governments.

All a big play, in a stage illuminated by starlight and the Nebula behind. But today was not a day for statecraft, but rather a moment for relaxing and introspection.

The next three months of well-deserved rest on Thessia would do her good, alleviating the muscle aches from spending her whole work day sited on a chamber. That new elite-only spa she heard about would do wonders.

She remembered when she joined the Legislative Formation Program, wishing to become one of the respectable Asari diplomats she read and saw about in diverse books and movies. Wishing to make a difference in the whole Galactic Community, and not just inside Asari space, as Justicars did.

Those hopes quickly faded away as she saw how fragile, yet all-powerful, the Council was. A triumvirate of the three biggest superpowers in the known space united only because they did not have the means to completely subdue the other two, so they were forced to work together.

But it was temporary, all Asari at one point in their lives saw that, be it two hundred, five hundred or a thousand years from now, that would end. With the powers-that-be and their military/industrial complexes in a constant race forward, it was a simple matter of time until a breakthrough was made, whatever it may be, that upset the balance of power.

And then it would all come crashing down in a glorious display of Eezo explosions and ultra-accelerated slugs.

But wishing for something isn't the same as getting them.

As she finished her dinner, a soft knock on her door brought her out of the intimate conversation she had with her glass of wine. Without even asking permission to enter her personal space, a fellow Asari stepped into her office.

"Councilor, I am Spectre Nyava," she said, showing her badge. "There are important matters pertaining the Republics that need your immediate attention."

"What kind of matters, Spectre?" She asked, annoyed at being interrupted.

"Situations that cannot be discussed without briefing, milady. _Your presence on Thessia is urgent._ " The Spectre answered, implicating that the office was compromised, with the code phrase at the end.

"Very well, my belongings are already packed, lead the way." She answered, all alcohol quickly leaving her system at the choice of words used.

With the order, Nyava guided her to the personal landing pads reserved for the Councilors, an unmarked ship already waiting her there. Upon boarding the ship, the vessel wasted no time on leaving the Citadel immediate airspace towards the void, using the most unconventional routes; avoiding all sorts of traffic and questions.

On the bridge, when they safely exited the Nebula towards an undisclosed location, she begun to ask the real motives of her hasty departure.

"What is the situation at hand?" Irissa demanded. "I want a detailed explanation, else _you_ will be responsible for spurring the safety protocols."

"We have received a positive confirmation of First Contact with another sentient species, it is occurring as we speak." The operative said calmly.

" _Where?!_ " She said with her interest perked, with all the geo-political implications running through her mind.

"Diplomatic Mission 314.'Perfect Illusion' protocol has been activated by the exploration vessel's captain. Our flotilla at the DMZ has a detachment ready to jump."

" _By Thessia_ …" She suddenly wished to have brought her wine on the trip, her recess from Council would definitely not be as she expected, not at all.

* * *

 _Zeta-Omicron system._

On the Zeta-Omicron System, the very fringe of Imperial space, a game of stare was being exercised by two forces.

Immediately next to the relay pair Relay 314, there stood an Asari exploratory vessel, and no more than two thousand kilometers away there was a squadron of military-grade vessels, 21 to be exact.

Facing each other without exchanging any sort of communication signal.

"Captain, we have detected anomalous activities within their vessel, we suspect they are transmitting information." The silence in the bridge of the battlecruiser AES _Vindicator_ was broken by a Lieutenant, as he spoke to the Captain above the crew pits. "High Command says they are evaluating the situation and expect you to act accordingly; what are your orders?"

"Navigation, slow approach on alien vessel; Weapons Room, all platforms continue trained on the intruder. _Legion_ and _Madrid_ intercept the vessel at close quarters, _Echelon_ and _Volgograd_ are to lead all frigates and surround the alien station, splash any vessel that comes through!" Captain Erwin Yardley ordered, being answered by a wave of 'ayes!' from the operators.

Under his lead, the vessels engines came to life amidst the void, silently propelling their ships forward, giving their intense red glare as immense quantities of plasma was propelled backwards.

The leading vessel, AES _Vindicator_ , was a dagger-shaped battlecruiser, painted bright white, customary to capital-class vessels of the Imperial Navy. At 1000m long, and hailing from the ' _Saturn_ ' class of ships, it was the formation's longest and most powerful combatant, two tachyon lances denoting its might.

The other ships, four Crusader-class cruisers at about 800m long, were the famous and numerous ships-of-the-line employed by the Imperial Navy. They were not like the pointed capital ships; they sported a more linear figure, and painted in lead and black.

Accompanying them were sixteen 350m long Fencer-class frigates, sporting smaller builds than the more resilient ships, and being armed to the teeth with anti-air weaponry and torpedoes.

The small Asari vessel was slowly enveloped by the human squadron, and back in the relay, the frigates blocked any possibility of escape.

* * *

The crew full of 'young' maidens did not even move, afraid that the gigantic ships that now flanked them would open fire again upon their very breathing.

"C-Captain, milady, we're receiving a transmission from the Councilor's shuttle." One of them mustered courage to report.

"Put her through." Said Arisme T'relis as she quickly fixed her uniform of any possible defect, standing up in a firm stance to communicate with her superior, in everything but paper.

As the holographic figure appeared before her, she could notice all the seriousness in the councilor's face as she said: "Captain T'relis, full mission report, _immediately_."

"Good evening Councilor," the scientist began. "Our covert operation began exactly on 10:45 AM Standard Thessian Time, when we began the remote protocols for the activation of the Relay 314. The patrol crafts around Tuchanka, as previously arranged, were only from the Asari Navy, and they complied in accordance to the plan. Then, we made the jump to Relay 314. We calculate through the position of known stars to be 2 kiloparsecs spinward from the Krogan DMZ proper."

She wasted no time in continuing her report. "As soon as we appeared on this side, we detected cosmic background radiation. As we could make a preliminary optical scan of the area, no apparent habitable bodies orbiting the star."

"Around 200,000 kilometers away from the relay, we detected an unidentified constellation, which we later could classify as a small dreadnought, four cruisers, and sixteen frigates. Immediately, we changed our trajectory to return to the relay, but the dreadnought fired what we too assumed to be a warning shot and we stopped dead on…"

"What kind of slug, did you get any composition reading on the projectile? How far away from your vessel?" Interrupted the Councilor.

"It was not a projectile, milady, but a _particle lance_ …" She saw in the eyes of the councilor the same surprise she felt when facing the weapon. "…faster than our very sensors could register it appeared about 350m away from our vessel; we could not identify the particle used. It emitted green light and stayed for exactly 2 seconds before disappearing; it would have easily annihilated our vessel if they were aiming for the kill."

Irissa pressed on for more information. "Was any sort of verbal or visual communication attempted?"

"Besides the display of firepower, no." Arisme answered. "We have yet to send any sort of data towards them. Currently their frigates are blockading the relay and the heavier vessels surround us."

"Then do immediately!" Irissa ordered. "Lest they decide to decimate you. I'll stay in constant communication with you. Follow the protocol at all costs."

* * *

Erwin evaluated the contents of the messages playing at his screen, both the agglomerate of information he trusted to be a First Contact package by these 'Asari', the orders from Naval Command to cease all sorts of possible hostility, the incessant requests by his fellow Captains for an attack order on both the station and the alien vessel…

The package was nothing special, were it not the complete silliness of it, compared to the Elysian first contact.

Diverse images and videos of hairless humanoids doing day-to-day activities and their general biology, judging by the structures displayed, said aliens which had an absurd level of similarity to both Man and Elysians, despite leaning completely to the feminine side. A language apparently way too complicated for its own good came together with the package.

Captain Yardley, we're receiving encrypted orders from headquarters. We received a special package with Imperial Standard, we are to send to them and see if they can translate it to their language. Command says we are to, heh, ' _escort_ ' the vessel towards Sigma-Tau Centauri and then engage in diplomatic relations there, an ambassador will be there together with an Elysian representative to conduct the exchange."

"Send the content to them, fucking aliens ruining my goddamn week…"

"Right away, sir." Answered the officer as he directed the considerable amount of data towards the aliens.

Minutes passed and passed before the same officer returned to speak "Sir, they're sending a transmission, the format is sort of weird, but we managed to make some compatibility with our own systems, shall I broadcast it on the main viewport?"

"Yes, do it. And by the Immortal Gods, if a single damn shot is fired, _before my order_ , I'll personally airlock the responsible out of the ship." After typing a bit more on his console, the frontal transparisteel panel on the bridge lit with the image of the aforementioned blue beings; meeting them with a stone cold face and glaring yellow eyes was the standing human Captain, in his ribbon decorated, and meticulously adjusted, grey uniform.

"Greetings!" The alien began. "I am Dr. Arisme T'relis, commanding officer of the _Star Crescent_ , I hail you in the name of the Asari Republics, and we look forward to establishing a healthy relationship with your government. We are delighted to meet a new species on the cosmos."

"I am Captain Erwin Yardley, you have trespassed restricted military space belonging to the Interstellar Aryan Empire, and we have orders to escort your vessel towards one of our systems." The human replied. "Direct your ship to one of our hangars and we'll transport you, once there, a delegation will engage in diplomatic talks. You have 3 minutes before we open fire."

To say she was dumbstruck was an understatement.

* * *

"Strikingly alike to us in physical form, only with more rugged features, a funny skin color and fur on their heads; definitely mammalian." Arisme reported. "Close, but _much_ better, to the infamous extranet representations of what the several species fancy a 'male Asari' would look like. Councilor, have you seen it?"

"Yes, I did," The superior Asari replied. "Obey them, and learn about them as much as you possibly can. And Captain, I read your file, you have specializations in both Exobiology and Diplomacy; _use them_."

"Any diplomatic incident whichever it may be will not be tolerated, vie for a meeting between one of their higher leaders and me. And good luck." She finished as her holographic image disappeared.

"I guess we have no choice." Arisme commented to herself, before ordering the awaiting ensigns. "Begin an approach on their hangar."

With that, the sleek, chrome painted, vessel ventured inside the portside hangar bay on the Vindicator; the hangar being evacuated of all personnel and shuttles before their arrival.

As their ship touched down inside the warship, trespassing the electromagnetic shield, large blast doors closed the space between them and the void; the deep blue shield quickly disappeared, not being needed anymore.

Outside, the fleet turned their bows to a certain constellation of stars, with their Rip Drives initiating and stabilizing powerful singularities that enveloped their ships in blinding light.

Soon, they were light years away.

* * *

Within the _Vindicator_ , the crew silently awaited for further orders while enjoying the show that were the currents of plasma flowing past their ship. Heads up like children, eyes fixed on the yellow-orange expanse before them.

"Andrews, did you send the video to HQ before we begun to sail?" Erwin asked softly, not taking his eyes off the alternate dimension.

The Lieutenant turned back to his screen before answering. "Yes sir, Admiral's response was, heh, _'This is bullshit_.' On his very words _._ "

Erwin cracked a smile at the brutal honesty. "Send a quick message to the Asari ship, they are not to leave their vessel. What's our ETA, by the way?"

"Around 8 hours from now sir; STC isn't that far away, about 500 parsecs. The Admiral ordered us to escort them back once the initial talks are finished, or destroy any evidence of their presence should they go sour." Finished the Lieutenant.

"Out-fucking-standing, my ship is now an oversized taxi, remind me when we get back to the shipyard to paint it yellow with black stripes." He said as he left the bridge, the door closing with an audible swoosh to the humorous smiles of his crew.

As he strode through the corridors and elevators towards the officer's dining room, several other crewmen saluted along the way and made the way itself to the dead serious commander.

The ship interiors weren't decorated or handcrafted, like a yacht or an interstellar line cruiser that families spent their vacancies on, cruising from planet to planet, but they would not drive a man mad during duty.

Occasionally during the walks, one would eventually meet the painting of a generic landscape, historical figure, important planet, or a landmark of the Empire; his preferred however were the ones showing the Imperial Palace and the Mars shipyards.

The Palace was one the epitomes of architecture to be found on Terra, built all those centuries ago, it was a mix of neo-classical and renaissance styles with touches of 21st Century futurism on it, with marble and other expensive rocks he did not know the name glorying it's construction.

Coupled with the huge Swiss Alps on the background, together with the kilometer tall buildings of Imperial Center, and the magnificent Royal Gardens on the front, it was an astonishing sight.

But the Mars shipyards, while not beautiful in an aesthetical way, were wondrous if one was particularly patriotic and keen on engineering.

They were a single superstructure; four space elevators distributed around the equator, all connecting to a giant Niven Ring not built for habitation but for the construction and maintenance of massive amounts of spaceships, including the industries related to star faring.

The First Fleet, pride of the Navy, was included on ships station there, being assigned to the peacetime defense of both the Sol and Elánir systems, as the Elysians call their star. From space, the shipyard, looked like a giant grey-white line ran across the planet, a stark contrast with the blue oceans and green continents below.

As he reached the officer's cantina, he tapped the comm on the table and said. "Chef, would you prepare a _big_ hamburger and a sizeable portion of French-fries for me…huh…an XL Coke too?"

Smiling at the commander's antics, the man answered through the line. " _Right away, Captain_."

Massaging his temples while sulking on his chair, Erwin murmured. "Lord Almighty, I should have shot on sight…"

* * *

 _Sigma-Tau Centauri III._

Sigma-Tau Centauri III was newly-settled territory, a fringe colony beginning to take shape of the very edge of the Empire. A proper name still had to be selected by the settlers.

It was on the first steps of its proper colonization, several geographical obstacles were being removed, and first hypermatter reactors recently installed, settlements and farms being built, among other basic infrastructure.

It housed around than 5 million new couples, shipped from across the Empire through the colonization encouragement programs; many young couples saw this as chances at opening their own business, to make a legacy for their family names, or raising their children in a small community.

Or either to simply start anew; with a new household and a new job perhaps, either in the mineral extraction, farming, civil construction or even security, but more importantly, a new lot in life.

Above them, a double-engine 45m long luxury yacht was in orbit around the planet, its sharp yet elegant lines complemented the scarlet paintjob.

Inside, sipping champagne by the bar, there was a woman in a designer dress with strands of pure silver along some lines, slightly accentuating all the right places while still leaving to imagination; she wore an emerald collar and her chestnut hair in a complicate hairdo, together with a single 24k gold ornament outlining her pointed left ear.

Her red irises stared at the man across the room.

Sitting by the couch staring back at her, a simple man in a tailored suit, with an M25 Beretta hidden inside his jacket and a Rolex on his wrist.

"If you don't mind me asking, was it the Commonwealth or the Senate who paid for your clothes?" The man asked as he lit a cigarette and poured some scotch in his glass on the table in front of him.

Smirking with lipstick tinted lips, she answered. "The Senate of course, do you think my paycheck can afford all this? Or even better, that the sharks at the Commonwealth would pay for it? If you're curious, the whole outfit, _plus_ the bag, cost twenty thousand Imperial Credits."

"… _Why_?" The man asked, with indignation clear on his face.

"Well, for starters. We're meeting an alien race, an alien race of _female_ beings, be aware." She began, annoyed at the notion.

"Second, I must look my prime to compliment your own image, I'm sure you can understand that; and third, we're allowed to keep the clothes for ourselves after assignments." She finished, sipping more of her drink, then slowly moving and sitting across the unsatisfied man in the leather couch.

Minutes passed. "Are you armed?" She asked, switching between the TV channels.

" _Of course_ ," he replied, showing the gun holstered inside his jacket. "You?"

She extended to him her long polished nails, at distance he could not notice, but leaning closer he saw it: the small blades on their tips.

"Venom. Potent to kill three of you." She said, while he puffed a small cloud of smoke, shaking his head with an amused smirk.

"Fitting," He commented, before asking. "So…what do you think of them?"

"That will depend on how they _truly_ are." She mused, twirling her glass in her fingers.

"Or how much money they have in their pockets…" The man interjected.

"They're some sort of female-looking mono-gendered species, I think," she continued. "Their home planet is quite a distance away, and they use that weird element as power source. She mentioned _'Asari Republics_ ' in the video, so one can assume they're a capitalist democracy, I hope. One superpower made of protectionist morons is enough."

He scoffed at the jab. "But that state is awfully useful when you want free healthcare, universal income, or a fiscal bailout, no? I tell you, you women abuse the citizenship you have…"

"That's beside the point." She ignored his argument, choosing to continue her assessment. "With that in mind, I have no doubt that if certain conditions are met we can make incredible amounts of revenue from commercial relationships with them. Even your own human companies, I'm sure. I could not get much sociological inputs from the few minutes we had of data, but they seem to partake in the same vices as most sentient beings are capable of."

"' _All_ _is one, and one is all_ ' was the belief they espoused, no?" She smirked. "I'm eager to see how your own monotheistic/syncretistic faith will clash with their pantheistic one. Or when they find out that there's an ultra-nationalistic, bigoted, borderline xenophobic, authoritarian autocracy, with republican tones just for fun, superpower sitting right next to their space." She finished sarcastically.

"You're eager? Hell, I wonder what will be their reaction when they find out you're a bunch of corrupted, spoiled, materialistic, atheist, lying and manipulative _, capitalist predators_." The man shot back, bristling. "Ruled by their corporations and banks, masters and slaves to a system of cyclic oppression, in worship to the oh-so-almighty, _false_ , god that is your vicious economy."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees while joining his hands together. "And I won't even comment on the extremely shallow understanding and arrogant dismissal of our historical _philosophy_."

Laughing at his response, she poured more champagne in her glass and raised it, saying "To the Empire: the strong arm that did not let us come to harm, and the gentle hand that wiped our tears when all over."

He answered, raising his own glass with the amber liquid on it. "To your race: the only real thing we will ever possess in this cold void between the stars, even after nearly causing our complete ruin."

"To us, for we still breathe." They finished, as their crystal cups met.

* * *

 **A/N:** Didn't think this would actually work.

Also, polished and beta-read by **Xabiar** as of December, 2017.


	2. Dresses and Drinks

**A/N:** Second chapter, praise the Machine God. Thank you, my reader and reviewer, for reading and reviewing. As a note for visual, or in this case audible, characterization; the Empire speaks Imperial Standard as a common language, and not English. Shameless and flagrant SW inspiration (rip-off?). At least they don't use Aurebesh. In my head canon, it sounds like Latin/English/Russian, in short, it is a strong language, not harsh, but strong to the ear. _Interlingua_ and _Occidental_ , including _Latin sin flexione_ , and similar common languages inspired me too. Regarding measurements, I usually only use Metric in my life, so I think in Metric; while I understand the Imperial System, it is infinitely easier for me to use it. For those unaware, a feet is approx. 30cm, 100cm is a meter, so yeah. 1K meters is a Kilometer, and a parsec is about 3 LY if I'm not mistaken. I use it because it is a bigger unit of distance than light-year. Speaking about measurements, today we learn what men talk when alone and with tasty burgers in hand. Yes I have a thing for gourmet fast food.

* * *

Many hours later, out of nowhere, several streaks of light made themselves existent and then took the form of ships as they exited the inferno of plasma behind, ripping the fabric of reality to the whims of their commanders. The glare of Sigma-Tau Centauri shone immediately upon them as they jumped around STC-III's low orbit, meeting the yacht waiting for them. A secret operation, of course, news of first contact weren't even made public yet; neither was there any consensus if it would be made public at all.

On the Vindicator, Aris tensely walked along the empty halls only with her aide accompanying her. Said halls had been previously evacuated of any personnel to avoid any undesired and unnecessary contact between the species. Mayrithia Er'tan on the other hand was sure of herself, including her biotic abilities. She was the designated guard of the scientist turned diplomat, a powerful Asari commando right off the training course; novice, yes, but in her prime of both physical and mental state.

Their path had nothing especially worth of note, a random painting here and there, a small statue occasionally, or shrine, she wasn't sure. But they did not have the time to spare with frivolities and art amongst the sterile grey halls, she was here to ensure her lady's safety and she would die rather than fail. She had disposed the grey commando armor, walking instead with the black thermal bodysuit, clinging to her fit form and contrasting with her pastel complexion. Surprisingly, she was allowed to carry a single firearm with her, firearm that now rested on her thigh holster, moving back and forward as her legs elegantly strode through the corridors. But her weaponry made little difference, when her very body and blood were weaponized.

In antithesis to herself, her superior was of negligible usefulness in any sort of situation that might involve violence; Aris early on knew that she wanted to explore every planet and catalogue every different lifeform to exist in the galaxy. Goal that led her to the command of the Star Crescent, a state-of-the-art research vessel, built for any atmosphere and made to resist the most adverse in-planet weather, complete with sub-light scanners that could give a detailed scan of a continent in a matter of minutes. Unarmed, but able to outrun the most agile of the Citadel ships, and with the highest quality kinetic barriers a civilian vessel could field.

A goal which also led her to lead the most dangerous mission an Asari captain would execute yet. Not only did this venture into uncharted space could cause another war on the levels of the Rachni assaults on Citadel worlds, but it also could leave the Asari in the worst diplomatic position since the Krogan Rebellions. The other council members _couldn't_ know that another relay was activated without their consent; they could not know that the Asari were breaking the very laws they originally motioned to be put in place; at least not now. Aris was surprised that the humans actually took time to decorate their ship insides, only if minimally. She was having the same butterflies in her stomach as she felt when going to a college assignment; even the mock up diplomatic meetings, or the xeno-biology presentations always left that feeling. Her clothing wasn't much special or revealing; a simple long-sleeved white shirt not much different from those she used in her everyday assignments or at home, only that now she discarded the lab coat, two gold and black stripes running down across her upper body and arms, and the usual skinny black pants. If she had even the minimal notion that she would be handling first contact she would have taken a dress along, but now wasn't the time to muse on what could have been.

Once reaching the indicated door, at the end of a wider corridor, Mayrithia questioned her superior "My Lady, are you ready? We can wait here some more minutes if you wish." Adjusting her clothing for any imperfection, she answered "No, thank you, we either succeed or we fail. And failure is not an option. I know I'm not specifically qualified to comment, but if you adopted a less aggressive stance, it would help me ease. Would you do that for me?" She asked, nervousness oozing off her speech pattern.

"As you wish, however, I'm here to protect you, despite the precarious situation." The commando answered while relaxing her pose. "I thank you for that." Taking a deep breath, she finished "Here we go." She approached the door, which opened in the familiar 'swoosh' of starship entrances. She was greeted by a meeting room decorated in crimson and dark grey, a small bar with several bottles behind the stone counter and dark couches on the corners, soft yellow lighting replacing the sterile white of the corridors, a well-crafted wooden table for twelve with a Human sitting on the far end, and very elegant feminine being sitting on his left; completely ignoring their presence, staring at the human with analyzing eyes. On the opposite end of the room there was no wall, but rather a glass panel giving a marvelous view of the planet below. On the left wall, a black banner with what she assumed to be a two-headed golden bird; wings wide open across the tapestry.

Not much more than seconds after they appeared, the man stood up and walked with class in their direction, clad in masculine black clothing with a white shirt of a design not so alien to the Asari ones beneath the jacket, an angled piece of cloth tied on his neck coming down and disappearing beneath the jacket. An enigmatic and solid gaze leaving his chestnut eyes directly to their own blue irises, and form fitting clothing; they were quick to look at his own eyes, looks which engulfed the new hard face and features in eager curiosity. The clearly styled patch of fur on his head, and on the lady's too, puzzling and intriguing them even more.

His next action, seemed erratic, but they assumed to be a human custom; he pulled a chair at her end of the table and waited, silent, looking straight into Aris's eyes. Quickly thinking, she bowed her head and moved forward to sit in the chair, as he adjusted the chair's position, and proceeding to the same on the chair to her right for Mayrithia, she too complying with the gesture.

When the human sat back at his original place, he suddenly spoke in a deep voice, maybe characteristic to his species "My name is Flavius Carter Alvarez, the woman beside me is Ayda Ylsel Miroslava." At the mention of her name, the woman finally acknowledged their existence, with a glare that made them feel, if anything, inadequate. "I am the representative of the Interstellar Aryan Empire, and she represents the Elysian Commonwealth."

At his words, she bowed once again and activated her Omni-tool, the holographic projection causing the Human to raise the patches of fur above his eyes; an expression she assumed to be of amusement and curiosity. As she begun to speak in High Thessian, the translator began to do its function in real time. "I'm glad that you received us in your ship, I very much liked the interior. My name is Aris T'relis, I'm an Exobiologist and Diplomat, and I'm in command of the _Star Crescent._ My guard is Mayrithia Er'tan. In the name of the Asari Republics, I wish for a prosperous relationship between our nations. The Goddess smiles upon this day."

"Your voice is delightfully beautiful, but do not invoke foreign gods in my presence…" Ayda gave a satisfied smirk towards him "…or within Imperial territory. Which leads to one of my questions, what is your purpose here?"

Impressed by the rudeness, and flattery, so early on the conversation, she answered "We are on a scientific endeavor, seeking new worlds for colonization on the behalf of the Asari Republics." She told the half-truth.

"That won't be possible I'm afraid; the entirety of the Orion Spur belongs to the Empire." Leaning back on his chair, he continued "But, tell me about you, your race, your government; I might even concede answers to your own questions…"

"The Asari Republics is the coalition of all the original republics that ruled over Thessia, our home planet; it has jurisdiction over more than a thousand and a half worlds. It has no central government, neither leader. Instead we rely on a shared responsibility over the course of action regarding our species through the means of a direct digital democracy, with our revered Matriarchs and Councilor having opinions that are held in the highest of esteem in the discussion circles, vote on the policies is universal to all those who have citizenship on the Republics, be the individual Asari or not. We're also part of a Galactic community, the Citadel Council, the council intermediates inter-species relations on the controlled council space. The council offers free opportunities for all, several different species have embassies at the Citadel, a deep space station, approximately housing 10 million citizens from different species that inhabit Citadel Space."

"A multi-species galactic union, _how lovely_ ; we are a semi-autocracy, ruled by His Highness, the Emperor, and the Imperial Senate from Terra, our homeworld. Only humans detain power of vote." As he talked, Ayda interrupted him, rising and gently placing a hand on his shoulder as she stood behind him. "The Elysian Commonwealth is the name the humans christened our 'government'. In fact, we are not a government, we are the conglomerate of the most-excellent Elysian companies that survived to the present age. Our society and the human is impossible to distinguish, as would be our species to the untrained eye."

"Pardon me, but I thought that you were a female of the human species? Am I incorrect?" Asked the confused diplomat.

"Why yes. The Elysian species hail from our homeworld Elysia, only 10 light-years away from the Imperial home system, in the Elánir system. You assessments are both correct and incorrect, we are a distinct species from the billions of men who inhabit the Empire, however, every human has an Elysian mother and every Elysian is fathered by a human, generation after generation, it is that way. One can say we have achieved perfect symbiosis. 'For you, I have captured the stars and bejeweled your body with them; for you, I bled the blood I did not possess, lost the life I did not live, but gained everything again.'" She looked down onto Flavius's head, after reciting the excerpt, gently applying a rather possessive pressure to his shoulder, and tracing a finger through his round ear. Taking the cue, he continued "But do not mistake yourselves, for reasons I did not learn in college, the DNA exchange by the inter-breeding is minimal, and the gene-pool has long been stabilized. And you? Are you mono-gendered, viviparous? Or do you replicate like the bacteria?" Ayda couldn't help but give a small, cruel, laugh.

"We are indeed a mono-gendered species, however our reproduction method is different from the galactic norm. We synchronize our neural systems with that of our partner and use their own genetic input to randomize one of our own set of genes, while the other is passed down to our offspring in its original form. While we do not take any genes from the father, we are capable of mating with _any_ and _every_ species and gender in existence. In such way, the offspring is always an Asari. We indeed are viviparous and our gestation period does not exceed a year." She left out the part about the speculated possibility of purely sexual reproduction, however, no suitable species has been found yet.

"So, you basically snatch potential reproductive individuals from a plethora of species while boosting your own numbers? Demographic replacement at its finest…How many years do you live?" Asked the Elysian.

"It's not viewed in such a light, but I can comprehend your reasoning. Our metabolism allows the Asari to reach an average of 800 to 1000 years in lifespan, going through three life stages. If may I ask, your…reproductive arrangement…confused me. Are you mono-gendered as well?"

"No. But that is not something that concerns you now. A millennia seems like a long time to live, don't you think? The average Elysian and Human lifetimes are usually 110 years with the medical advancements of today. Despite that, once the first sexual relationship is made, an Elysian is taken and bound for life." Returning to her chair "Which is not the case for Men. They can do as they please, only being bound by their sense of honor and duty." She said with frustration on her voice, looking now directly into his eyes.

"Don't be so sour, we are bound to you as well, 'till death do us apart', don't you know?" He stared back; checking his watch, he noticed that much time had already elapsed since his 'guests' had arrived. "It has indeed been a great meeting, I'm with all honesty impressed to find an advanced society so far away, and so early in Galactic history. And, _once again_ , so alike to us in appearance. I have received orders to arrange a meeting between your Councilor and our higher ups. Is such a thing possible?" He rose to his feet, buttoning his jacket while reaching for the bar.

"Perfect! I shall communicate it back to her as soon as I can!" She said while she rose together with Mayrithia to their feet. They saw as the man produced out of behind the counter two rectangular cases, apparently soft to the touch.

"Here, this is a humble gift I had quickly prepared as soon as I heard I was the one meeting such beautiful ladies." They took the cases in their hands, feeling the fabric akin to velvet in their fingertips. Moving _close_ to them he said "Here, let me help you." He opened the cases for them, revealing inside small golden colored collars with a geometrical shape hanging and black books with indistinguishable words on their hard covers.

"This is the most precious thing we can give you, the greatest achievement yet, _Verbum Dei_." Picking up the collars and linking them behind their necks, the small shapes hanging above their chests. First Mayrithia then the diplomat, which was quick to thank him.

"We are grateful for your consideration, while I do not understand the cultural concept behind your gift, I'm delighted to be worthy of them. I'm afraid however, that I cannot reciprocate your gesture, for we have come unprepared, pardon me." She declared while bowing together with her bodyguard.

"Think nothing of it, being able to give these to you is a gift in itself." He said with a sincere smile, as far as she could tell. Something extremely rare in politics and statecraft.

With a last bow, they departed towards their ship, every action and word replaying over an over inside their minds as they strode through the corridors.

Back at the meeting room, behind the sealed durasteel door, an argument made itself present.

"You'll just make we all look like fools giving those religious trinkets to them! Why do you men have to be such zealots?! You started one of your so called Crusades or whatever with the Tzynn and now this, what are you trying to do, convert them?" She fumed.

"And what do you suggest I give them? Shares of a state owned bank? Please Ayda, don't be _jealous_. You see thorns where there are only blossoms, I mean no harm."

"Blossoms, Flavius? You mean _seducing_ them, right? You think I did not see the way you nearly fucked them with your eyes alone? I hope you men don't forget the Pact, if your words even meant anything that day at all; lest you give it all up at the first sight of some alien _slut_." She was teeming with rage.

"How could we forget? I'm not deserving of such contempt, you know that." Taking her hands into his own, he kissed her knuckles and said "I said, _we said_ , that besides God, you're the only thing we'll ever have. We said it twice, and those times were under the watch of the Living God, whether you believe in Him or not. But we do, and we honor the vows and pacts we make before Him. He set us towards you and you towards us. You have nothing to fear, you can assure the Commonwealth of that." He achieved his objective, her glare had softened.

"Their military will probably be of no concern to your own, decentralized as they are. If anything they only possess a unified Navy, but multiple republics organizing a unified ground front? Impossible. The only problem would be the other members of such galactic Council. But you are stronger, you always are." She said in a much meeker tone than the previous enraged one, folding her arms turning her back to him as she moved towards the wall sized viewport.

"Against the Empire, there can be no victory. I'll go talk to the Captain, would you monitor their conversation for me?" Flavius asked.

"Sure, I'll make a report of the meeting too, but I don't have the Naval codes, neither the authorization, to send them to your military." She said, looking back to him and sitting down and producing a data pad from under the table.

"Don't worry, I'll be the messenger once again." With that, he left, the door opening and closing with a ' _swoosh_ ' as she stared into her tablet, quickly beginning to type on the touchscreen.

* * *

"What are those things they gifted us milady?" Asked Mayrithia as they made their way back to the Star Crescent, thought the Vindicator's corridors and turbolifts.

"I do not know, but it seems to be of great importance to them. They even offered us a book! Books are not used in Citadel Space since hundreds of years ago. These necklaces are simple, I wonder if they are a cultural thing too, way different than the collar _she_ used."

"Jealous woman, did you see the way she looked at us, even going so far as to touch the diplomat. Do you think they are engaged in some manner?" Commented the bodyguard with audible annoyance in her tone.

"I doubt it, but I can understand her reasoning, they are both representations of their races and governments as we are to the Republics. And considering their symbiotic relationship, it would make sense to be possessive of the other species, considering we _are_ competition." She said to the laugh of her companion "It is startling to find species that have evolved separately from us and yet show such similarities in morphology. These humans are indeed fine specimen; strong musculature, no exo-skeleton thank the Goddess, captivating eyes like ours, and an apparently rich culture, despite being fanatics on the level of the Hanar. Did you feel the brush of that skin? No analogue besides ourselves, and maybe the Quarians! _Five fingers even!_ "

"Indeed, it sent me shivers across my back, there was even the faint wind from his breath on my neck. And that language, the penetrating tone, it reached clear across the room as if he was speaking to our faces. Unlike the human Captain, the diplomat's eyes devoured our forms; I've never felt so _desired_ in my whole life." She said smiling from ear to ear.

"How do you think they look under these clothes? They sure look strong and well built, but a _detailed_ image would be much better than our imagination." Said the scientist entering the turbolift, earning a giggle from her bodyguard.

"I'm eager to know. One thing is for certain, if their objective was to leave us on _edge_ , they sure succeeded." She said as she was greeted with the sight of the hangar and their chromed ship. Once inside, Aris quickly called her boss through the QEC on the bridge. "Captain, what was the outcome?" Irissa wasted no time in questioning her subordinate.

"Better than the most optimistic prediction. They brokered for a meeting between you and one of their own leaders as soon as possible. From what I could learn, they are in symbiotic association with another sentient species the Elysians, and government, much like themselves but apparently with major and minor biological differences; in short, one of the races is the mother and another is the father, and apparently they give birth to themselves. It is like nothing we have seen yet, biologically speaking in terms of interspecies relationships. The humans are organized in an authoritarian parliamentary autocratic empire, a system of government we have yet to find an example outside of speculative political theory, or in the distant past of Thessia, they apparently are ruled by both an Emperor and a Senatorial body. Here, look at this pictures my Omni-tool took while inside the room." As the lighting inside the bridge diminished and the pictures were broadcasted both to the ship crew and to Irissa, Aris explained:

"This one you're looking at is a human, he heighted at around 1.80m tall, with straight legs like our own, the fur on the top of his head was trimmed and styled in what apparently is a fashion trend or cultural aspect, as you can see his eye color is non-existent in any known species from Citadel Space, from what we could assess from both the video contact, and from paintings inside the ship and themselves, they possess 5 of them: chestnut, blue, grey, green, yellow, and red, with shade variations inside those colors. Fur colors range from yellow-golden to the lighter and darker chestnut to bright red and occasionally black. That's a staggering level of genetic diversity inside their genome. I suspect they possess fur on their faces too, for the high-res image shows small pores with what I think are growing strands on his jaw connecting to the fur on the head, chin and in the space below his nose and above and around his mouth, but apparently they cut this patch clean. Five fingers in each hand with opposing thumbs together with nails, their fur extends to the back to their hands and fingers too, but considerably sparser than that on the top of their heads and above their eyes, possibly they have similar concentrations on their arms and chests too, as is common with mammalians. However, from some paintings we found on the way there and back to the ship, the concentration of such fur varies accordingly to each individual. They have two ears protruding out of their heads, a feature we have yet to find on any sentient species, not even the Quarians possess them. From what we were told, their government has total control of the Aurora Expanse, which they call 'Orion Spur'. The Omni-tool also indicated that they were levo-amino based. The individual in question demonstrated intense sexual interest towards both myself and my body guard, his eyes couldn't leave our form fitting suits. If I may give my input…" She blushed, with a small red hue contrasting with her aquamarine skin "…I was deeply flattered by his attentions, he was rather handsome individual, and had a smile that I'm sure would make every maiden in both the Citadel and the Republics melt." Irissa smirked ' _That can be useful, perhaps.'_ She thought.

Flipping to the next image she continued "This one is an Elysian, they are the symbiotic species associated to the Humans, apparently females with very refined features and stature similar to ours. Slender build, with high-res imaging denoting similar skin texture as the humans and ourselves, elongated ears different from the round human ones; another difference is that we could not detect presence of fur neither on her jawline, neither on her arms or hands. It only made itself present on the upper head an above the eyes. Apparently, the additional eye shades on the humans came from their genome; due to their biological relationship with the human species they have an _acute,_ and understandable,sense of possessiveness towards them, fact that was observed during the diplomatic meeting. Her eyes nearly fulminated us alive, and I'm pretty sure she would have prosecuted her thoughts if given the chance."

Pointing to the collar on her chest she said "The humans are very religious from what I could sense, and they gifted us with this jewelry and a book, for my star's sake. We have not produced books in centuries! Thankfully, they have provided us the digital templates and structures of their language, so uploading them to the new linguistic implants will be of no consequence, I think that two or three hours from now I'll already be fluent on both writing speaking and reading it. They have a distinct imperialistic attitude diplomatically speaking, similar to the Turians, it was more like an interrogation in which he fancied to answer my own questions."

"Well, that is to be expected, we violated their territory after all. And Citadel's laws in the process too. So we are not free of guilt, at least no one was shot dead. I'm heading to Tuchanka as we speak, if we could rendezvous on Relay 314 it would be excellent, can you arrange that for me?" She gave the implicit order.

"Yes, my lady, at once."

* * *

Flavius sat beside Erwin as they both shared a meal in the officer's dining room, napkins on their laps protecting from any spill as they devoured their burgers and fries or drank their sodas, or in Flavius's case, a banana-strawberry smoothie.

With the mouth still a bit full, he begun to talk to Erwin "This meat is great, I love the Navy chefs. Say friend, what you thought of them?" And then gulped more drink.

Wiping his mouth with the piece of fabric, he answered "I tell you, this doesn't looks well at all. First they show up from God knows where, probably using that awful looking station as leverage. Then, they turn out to be a bunch of blue women, I mean, what the fuck? Meeting the Elysians, if I remember my history classes, already defied every mathematical prediction we had, we did not even know that there was a habitable world in the Centauri system. All the other contacts were fine and sort of normal, as normal as meeting aliens can be. But then we do it again, and this time is the same shit as last time, all smiles and pleasantries. And what do we do instead of shooting on sight? Accept them inside my ship to have a little meet and greet. Next thing we know we all die of xeno-virus or they invoke some demon or something inside my vessel and it rampages through the hangar. Who knows? They might even be actually doing some satanic ritual inside that science corvette of theirs." He sulked further into his seat.

"Ahahahahahahahaha, Jesus, man. Relax a bit, they're not some band of cultists or anything. They are quite hot tough, did you see that soldier?" Another bite.

"That's for sure! By the Lord above, I mean, both of them had C-cups! One in a thousand Elysians reach C-cups, they all fall into the B's we all know so well!" A handful of fries.

"Now, one thing we've got to hand to the Elysians, they can handle the _full_ brunt. One may look at their forms and think that they would break, but oh boy."

"Oh hell yeah they can, my wife just had our third son some months ago, before we got deployed. I saw how the other representative reacted through the camera, she almost ripped you alive. I wonder how the Empress will react herself."

"Damn right, I'm not the only one to receive this treatment, that's certain. They actually believed I'm a diplomat…" At this point the both had finished their lunches and had lit cigarettes.

"For real? I thought they would get it, why have a diplomatic service when we can just send Imperial Intelligence officers? I mean that's obvious. You're from the Main Intelligence Directorate or Federal Security Bureau?" He asked to the undercover agent.

"MID, when in relation to foreign threats and nation-states we're the ones to go, we also supply both the Army and Navy with critical intelligence. The FSB only operates in domestic surveillance and counter intelligence. Did you know that the Royal Guard is subject to them? Sons of bitches actually have a higher budget than us…"

"I personally can't complain about our budget, the tachyon lances alone are 4 billion credits each."

"Speaking about budget. Can you believe her outfit cost more than 200 grand?"

"You're shitting me. No fucking way…" Captain Erwin would continue his line if he wasn't interrupted by his Communications Lieutenant's voice through the room speaker.

" _Captain, Mr. Flavius, the aliens are inviting you two to visit their ship, their Councilor or whatever wants to speak with the you. I guess you two are in for a ride."_ Andrews warned them.

"Tell them we'll go, the whole operation is under my lead anyway, he doesn't need authorization from Command." Flavius said, as he got up.

"Another 20 pages to my weekly report, fuck me…" Erwin muttered as they left the dining room.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to all of you who fav/followed too.


	3. Martian Dusk

**A/N:** Another chapter. A sinister deal is struck amidst chirping birds and coconut water, and the proverbial dagger is plunged into xenos backs. If you find any word connected to another, it was FF's fault, in the editor it skews my formatting.

* * *

On Thessia, Spectre Nyava and Councilor Irissa had just returned from their spending spree, several shopping bags of the most expensive brands on their hands. Currently awaiting in the pickup point, where the fast travel service would take them back to the spaceport.

"Of course it was necessary, operative. The Citadel can afford a couple of dresses and jewelry, the heels too." Irissa rolled her eyes at the stupidity of the question.

"I understand, Lady Irissa, but do you really think it will work? I mean, they gave us no breach, twice already. They were invited on the ship, and even with the pheromone infused air they did not get it on, so to speak." Nyava pressed.

"They will cede, all before them have and they're not different from any usual male. Regardless of species, they will drool."

"Perhaps we will have to cede something in return too." Commented Nyava, while looking onto the city horizon.

More minutes of silence followed before the rented car took them to the spaceport from the shopping center complex. Once inside the _Scythe_ , they resumed their conversation.

"Can I ask you a question, Councilor?"

"Does it involve potential ultra-classified information?" She asked, upon receiving the confirming nod from her Spectre, she answered "Yes, you may."

"What sort of deal do you plan on making with them?" Nyava asked.

"Well…We need to explain the true nature of the Citadel Council to them, they already have partial information regarding the Republics. They too need to be aware of the other species, namely the Turians and the Salarians. In short, Nyava, we need to ensure that whatever outcome of this, the future of the Galaxy will see us in the center of it."

The then ship took off from the spaceport towards the relay, leaving the wonderful world behind them.

* * *

A day later, Irissa sat on a classy sofa, on a sunset illuminated living room in what she fancied to be a 5-star hotel, or government building. She wasn't sure; the building was designed based on what she assumed to be a human Neo-Classical movement on the insides, yet on the outside the modern aesthetics dominated. The men before her were antithesis to each other, one was cold and calculating fast thoughts like a machine and the cynical smile of jackal; the other had liquid fire for blood and tractor beams for a gaze, desiring to _possess,_ in every sense of the word. However, there was something else besides the drink they were offered that she wanted to taste, namely the human in front of her. Exhaling nobility, same fur, now explained to be called 'hair', color as the previous diplomat and of the man besides him, strong but inviting face coupled with the semi-innocent look on his eyes.

"So, in short, you drove yourselves in a prison that has an open door, but with rabid dogs on the outside. Once you motion to leave this Citadel Council, it is likely that the other two you mentioned, the Turian Hierarchy and the Salarian Union, will immediately declare war on you, and even having the biggest economy of the block you have no structured military besides the navy to conduct open warfare. Sounds like you're between a rock and a hard place. You cannot leave this organization, for the other powers would immediately attack you, and such threat is extended to them too, for neither of you three has the power to completely overthrow the other. And of course there are the lesser races." Spoke Jack Harper, Director General of the Main Intelligence Directorate, whose blue eyes were locked onto her own.

"Indeed, the geopolitical situation for the Republics is not the best. If I may confess, I have still not communicated my fellow Councilors or their governments about your existence. We understand the goal of your civilization: power, as is of every civilization, including ours. Even through our outer façade of understanding and cooperation, which we government officials keep intact for the always prying Salarian eyes and ears, our true sentiments and motives are always kept in closed doors and minds." She poured more of that delicious human hot black drink on her teacup once more.

"And you plan on using our own nation as leverage to the destruction of your fellows, I assume. Entertaining that notion, I assume those powers have similar proportions to your own, sizeable number of planets, population and resources. And the same technological basis, as you claim to use reverse engineered artifacts from a precursor civilization. If we were any lesser superpower, such war would be suicidal, an invitation for destruction. Tell me, Lady Irissa, are my assumptions correct?" Asked Crown Prince Constantine Valeri III, in his thirty somethings; his elaborate royal robes reminding her of the long extinguished empires of Thessia, but himself reminded her of her past lovers, but with the spicy-sweet taste of Fireblossoms she had yet to find on a species on the cosmos.

Her heart beat in her chest like a sledgehammer, it all depended on her answer. It depended on whether they would be offended by the implicit offer, an offer of conspiracy and deceit, of partaking in a conflict centuries in the making. Conflict that she knew they had no immediate reason to partake into. Or, if they would accept it, it would mean that the next years would prove decisive in her career. Hell, decisive to the Galaxy as a whole.

"In part; we are not trying to spill human blood to achieve ourselves a good position over our peers. But indeed, such a war against both of them would be destructive for all sides." She placed her hands over one another on top of her crossed legs, while staring right into his eyes.

"Perhaps you wondered if you answered yes, I would immediately oust you from here or shoot you. But no, in fact, I am disappointed that you attempted to lie. However, I am pleased as to why you did so; you wish to preserve your nation as we do wish to preserve our empire, in whichever way it may be. Now, we have no problems about your motivations to revealing such information about your 'allies' and goals, and withholding our own existence from their knowledge. The question is Councilor, what do we have to gain helping you in your galactic plot? Military power, riches? We have that already."

"Why such a ready predisposition for conflict? I am honestly surprised, but pleased nonetheless." She arched a smile, looking to Nyava, in their traditional Thessian multi-piece clothing.

"Human nature. We have always been like that, we are like that, and we will continue to seek conflict in whichever way it may present itself. And you still haven't answered the question. And choose well your offers, after all you appear eager to betray those who ally with you." Jack set his cigar onto the ashtray.

She took a deep breath a set her teacup back on the center table, and answered "I offer you not mineral riches, or fine clothing, neither something as trivial as trading partnerships. I offer you _everything,_ from the Terminus Systems, to the Attican Traverse, to the Citadel Space itself. We have long coveted everything that exists, but we are not capable of taking it alone, neither you." Both men smiled in mockery "So perhaps, we should do it together. I offer you the Galaxy, the void, the stars, the planets and all beings that reside on them. You'll learn during our contacts that _we know how to share_." She finished, awaiting a response.

Jack looked sideways to Constantine with a conspiratorial and predatorily smile, and nodded his head, picking up back his cigar. Constantine, looked back to Irissa and Nyava, and said after some minutes of consideration. "We accept." He flashed his teeth "However, you offered everything. _I'll take it_ ; after this, there will be no turning back. Either the Galaxy will bow in infinite submission to us, or we'll die in the bright flames of our desires." He rose together with a smirking Irissa; shaking her hand, and thus, sealing the profane destiny of the Galaxy.

Later that night, as the waves of the sea besides their hotel crashed on the beach and the moon pulled and pushed the saltwater; their bodies themselves crashed in one another, she pulling him further and further towards herself and him pushing her to the limits of carnal indulgence. He, taking claim of both the tangible prize and foretelling the symbolical ones on the very carpet they stood hours before; and her, ensnaring him into her grasp; impossible to let go and irresistible to keep distance from. Clothes being long forgotten, or _ripped_ apart, as the alcohol and shady substances of their private celebration clouded their reasons, but heightened their senses and passions.

Their hearts, pulsing liquid-fire through their bodies with each breath, each crash of flesh. As their lips hungrily met each other, she could, almost as if by magic, feel on him the fiery taste of bottomless desire; and on hers, he felt the sweetness of the nectar reserved for Gods, the pleasure of victory. A metaphorical, and profane, Fireblossom.

* * *

Some things can't last forever, which was proven by the fact that both Harper and Constantine sat on the conference table back on Mount Olympus, together with Supreme Admiral Alexandr, Supreme General Carlos, and with the Asari delegation. Five days after the deal struck on the shores of Hawaii.

"By the way she looks at you, I'm assuming you had fun with her back on the Hotel that night?" Whispered Jack to the Crown Prince as they awaited for the meeting to begin.

"More than just that, I was actually on a scientific expedition." He took a sip from his coffee.

"Ah, _that_. I honestly hope it to be true, given the implications that would have. Thankfully, our genome is already stabilized. Your father was pleased on how you conducted things, however." He smiled. "But boy, this thing with these aliens, don't forget the pact. I can't, you can't, and we can't."

"Thanks, Jack, I won't. Councilor, would you begin for us please?" He smiled back.

"With pleasure, Majesty." She answered from across the table. With a quick command from her pad, the room's windows darkened and begun to project the given information.

"What you now see, are the territories of the Salarian Union in green to your north, the Turian Hierarchy in red in your south, the Republics in blue at the west, your territory in yellow, the Krogan DMZ in white. To the eastern part of the High Milky Way, there stands the Batarian Hegemony in orange. This is what comprises the so called Citadel Space, together with our capital worlds, Sur'Kesh, Palaven, Thessia, Tuchanka and Khar'Shan, together with the Citadel on the map. As most of you gentlemen know, our technologies rely on Element Zero, a very rare element with no electrons on its composition. When an electric current courses through the element it is capable of generating dark energy fields, lowering or heightening the mass of any object inside it. We use such technology to traverse the stars in FTL and to a myriad of other things, including weaponry, as demonstrated previously. However, the ancient race known as the Protheans built using the very same technology such stations as the one we came through. They allow for a massless corridor between one Relay and another one, the travel between them is near instantaneous, as is information transfer."

She changed the image "This is a Salarian, they are a race of warm-blooded amphibians with hyperactive metabolism and photographic memory. Their reproduction is sexual in the form of haplo-diploid egg laying, with unfertilized eggs producing male offspring and fertilized ones producing females. Due to culture, only a fraction of eggs are fertilized. Their government is a labyrinthine web of matrilineal bloodlines, with matriarchs being deferred by her male offspring with undoubted loyalty. This tribal loyalty is instilled into the Salarians in a psychological process called imprinting, a Salarian tends to owe that loyalty to those they meet in immediate youth. The Salarian ground forces focuses on maneuver warfare, with a relatively small volunteer contingent; due to their doctrine, the Salarian military will always adopt cutting-edge technology in all aspects of their weaponry and equipment. Their navy is by far the most maneuverable on the Citadel, trading armor for speed." Flipping her fingertips across the datapad, a new image showed up "However, what truly differentiates the Salarian Union from other governments, is their superior intelligence services, suspected to have acute knowledge of everyone's military capabilities before prosecuting a war. This intelligence service is known as Special Tasks Group, much like the Citadel Spectres, operating outside of any legislation."

Another flip of her fingers, and a new race appeared on the window. "The Turians are an avian-like species of biped humanoids, as you say; they possess a skin with traces of metallic compounds due to the moderately elevated radiation on their homeworld, due to its metal poor core. They are the ones with both the largest navy and army in the Citadel, however, still falling slightly short in terms of technology to the Salarians and the Republics. Despite that, their competency and discipline is unmatched, they were the ones to fight the Krogan to a stalemate during the Krogan Rebellions, and thus were given a seat on the Citadel Council. Their armed forces are an all-encompassing institution, performing both civilian duties and their usual martial ones. They are a meritocratic hierarchy as their name suggests, with citizenship divided into several tiers, with full citizenship only being achieved after military training, which they all go through."

"Those are accurate and concise rundowns on them. But you are a Councilor for the Asari, what are your personal views about them?" Asked Supreme Admiral Alexandr Kamensky, sporting a bald head and a full mustache.

"Well, Admiral, I'm on my forty-ninth year of Councillorship. In my experience, the Salarians will, without a doubt, be the first to strike and the first to drive a dagger through someone's back. Though I'm in no position to complain about that." She said, laughing together with her co-conspirators. "But that is not the only thing, they are surprisingly inflexible, even being made mostly out of cartilage; some previous wars and situations have showed that when the action flows into paths they have not considered, despite their first-strike policy, they end up lost on their decisions. Susceptible to unconventional warfare."

Taking a sip of her coffee, she continued "The Turians, are inflexibility taken to the next level. Instilled with responsibility and duty since youth, they are hard set on their goals and efficient at what they do. Doctrine has many times hindered their successes however, retreat to them is just another opportunity to lay traps for an enemy, thought that has cost them many legions. Control freaks, too; with strict protocol having impeded many times the execution of well laid plans, just because they are risky and sometimes unpredictable. While they have a high sense of honor, that honor also comes with an elevated pride, mainly due to their victories on the Krogan Rebellions and on other wars."

"That is understandable, victories at wars, especially interstellar wars such as those of our age, are feats to be proud of. Their appearance however, is found lacking compared with the higher species." Irissa smiled in mirth at the notion entertained by the man, one she nurtured since youth "But tell me, in detail Councilor, how a war between Citadel nations occurs?" Questioned Supreme General Carlos Alonso, an average looking man in his fifties with a well-trimmed beard and short hair.

"Well, there was only one war in the last fifty years, in the middle of my term. Usually, if you're not fighting the Salarians, there will be a formal declaration of open hostilities between the two nation states, which will be protocolled through the Council, with the Council acknowledging the fact that those two associate races have entered in war. The Asari Republics, me, will have to follow the guise of the diplomatic Asari and attempt to end the war before it even begins by political means, sometimes the Asari Councilor succeeds, sometimes not. The Turian Councilor will meet in private with both sides to sell arms and/or rent armies from the Hierarchy as mercenaries, extra officially of course. The Salarian Councilor will do the same, only he will be renting STG cells and information on both sides, but never share technology. Matriarch Lydania, would you care to elaborate further on the specifics of naval combat?" She turned towards the fellow Asari.

"Of course, Councilor." She began showing her own presentation on the window turned flat screen. "The opening phase of the war consists of communications being targeted by both sides, destroying or hijacking comm relays, attempting to disrupt enemy communications. Comm relays are usually defended, so the first naval skirmishes are fought on them. Naval battles have two variants with dreadnoughts and without them. Engagements with dreadnoughts begin on the Extreme range, usually a light second away, as the rounds are very small in comparison to a ship and since they are detected moments before any impact, the range is barely a factor; it is still possible to evade them at about 30% of the occurrences. As I have demonstrated, due to our technology, main ship guns are fixed spinal-mounted mass accelerators, usually comprising 80% of a ship's length and propelling rounds at about 4.500km/s, broadside guns achieve only a third of this speed. At Long range, cruisers become useful, engaging other cruisers and screening the dreadnoughts at the rear from any possible raid, fighters and interceptors are launched to both engage enemy craft and to take down enemy kinetic barriers; in this range Commanders can decide if they will engage in general melee or if they will disengage."

"Fascinating, your guns then are not mobile?" Asked Constantine, leaning a bit more on the table, deeply interested by the narrative.

Quickly looking towards him, she answered. "No, they are a strange remembrance of the Age of Sail both our civilizations experienced. When on Medium ranges, the fleets intermingle, with organized retreat becoming impossible. Packs of Frigates roam the battlefield, looking for ships with downed barriers to eliminate them. If the battle pursues further frigates and fighters close to 20 or so kilometers, distance impossible to achieve with larger vessels, for they would be completely unable to aim at each other. Fighters utilize high-mass torpedoes to bypass kinetic barriers of enemy ships. Spectre Nyava?"

"Moving onto ground procedures, planetary invasions differ from nation to nation. Salarians and Turians can afford multi-month, or even multi-year, battles for multiple planets, the Asari can mount effective defense for a limited period of time due to the inherent dispersive nature of our ground forces. Second grade nations, such as the Batarians or nations within the Terminus Systems can only assault with limited personnel and once they lose orbital superiority over a planet, their garrisons disperse into the wilderness, awaiting for relief. Vehicles, soldiers, gunships, fighters all use kinetic barriers and miniaturized mass accelerators. As we demonstrated, a normal rifle round is the size of a grain of sand, the projectiles a tank or IFV shoot are no bigger than a pebble or an eyeball." She said.

"Fascinating indeed, our own infantry uses laser arms instead. One may think, why not use the so widespread rail technology, or use laser on other vehicles. Well, the answer is simple, the only place where we can field Universal Defense Shields are in space ships, Battlefield Supremacy Platforms, or a Tactical Shield Company. In short, in everything that is able to carry a hypermatter reactor, for the power to generate a shield is absurd, many yields above what a normal vehicle can produce. Shields are the only thing that can deflect, absorb and disperse an energy beam, therefore it make absolutely no difference in term of effectiveness what we use. As you can guess, the problem is, and will always be, power." Said the Admiral.

"Powerful lasers able to penetrate or melt a tank's frontal armor for example, cannot be generated by normal plasma fuel-cells, neither batteries. That means not even the largest and heaviest tank, or plane, can field one. However, an infantry grade laser, not wider than a 5.56 round, can be generated by batteries, sort of gun magazines; the lasers can be fired in single shots, 3-shot bursts and full auto. The strangest we found, is that it is both expensive and unfeasible to produce either an efficient infantry rail-rifle, no soldier has enough space on him to power the two rails on his rifle, and even if he did, such weapon would need both a power cell and an ammo compartment; in other words, two magazines and expensive superconductive rails for _each_ gun, completely impractical. One full powered magazine can give a soldier 45 shots, or 15 bursts, which can be recharged both with a power cable, solar energy although it would take more time, or thrown into a power source, like a fireplace." Said the General.

"Handguns, rifles, SMGs, LMGs, you name it; all laser weapons, the main difference comes with shotguns; we are proud of our indigenous designs, to utilize microwave blasts to melt our targets, way more effective at taking down multiple enemies than laser beams. The weapons utilize the energy contained on its magazine to emit a short and high powered microwave blast in variable shapes, either a cone or a focused beam for maximum lethality." Said Jack, himself drinking his good scotch.

"This uncanny gap, either the absurdly big or the incredibly small, between the Gamma Anti-Ship Lasers and the Laser Rifle with Railcannons in between them, cannot be corrected with our current technology. Unless we find some other way to generate enough power in a super miniaturized manner; until then, our forces will continue with this disparity in equipment. All things accounted, our forces have advantages and disadvantages over each other." Finished Carlos.

"Your Majesty questioned before if our guns could not be moved, why is that?" Asked Lydania, while the window lost its tinting, revealing the beautiful Martian landscape to them once again.

"Because ours do. You use fixed mounts, while we use turrets; we have even considered using such gun decks. But, well, our ships are relatively slow. Slower than yours; you can achieve superior maneuverability, and your technology forces you to utilized fixed barrels. If we were to do so, we would be near useless in naval combat. Both our Anti-Ship Rail Artilleries and Gamma Anti-Ship Lasers, are mounted on hull-retractable turrets, being able to swivel in multiple angles to engage targets; it even helps to shed heat away from them into the void. Such turrets, when not used, bury themselves back into the hull compartments closed with armored doors, that configuration allows for easier repair of the mounts too, without the need for EVA."

"A modern Saturn battlecruiser for example, has 16 GASLs turrets on each side, together with the same number of twin-linked ASRAs, totaling 32 railcannons, split in two decks of emplacements. Saturn-classes can only field two tachyon lances on the mid-section forward to the bow and have no fighter complement. The sight of one of them opening fire on multiple angles is distinctly beautiful."

"I'm still amazed at your advancements in directed energy weapons. Regarding the _plot_ , so to speak; do you gentlemen have any thoughts that we can explore?" Lydania spoke once more.

"Well, it has come to my understanding that we cannot achieve victory against those powers without enormous sacrifice, not on the level of the Great War, but still unnecessary. Therefore, they must be to ones to make such sacrifice. A war must be fabricated between those nations, if we wish to succeed." Proclaimed Harper, pouring more scotch on his cup, and passing the bottle towards Alexandr.

Constantine spoke this time "I agree, manipulation suits us better this time. Ladies?" His eyes bore straight towards Irissa.

"Indeed, I think that was what was originally on our minds, and on Matriarch Emezin's mind, when she wrote _On Post-Modern Asari Geopolitics_. From that particular book the top Matriarchs from the Republics and the past councilors could devise that notion that we need to set our enemies against themselves in order to achieve supremacy. The question is, how?" Irissa asked.

"Reconnaissance and special tactics makes themselves necessary then. A Citadel/Imperial task force must be assembled to access the current situation with surgical precision and discretion; given your technology, we could use our own dreadnoughts as scouting ships and you wouldn't know any better. But perhaps a small ship, a frigate, combining both our technological progresses and expertise would be ideal." Jack elaborated.

"With a select crew of gifted individuals, handpicked soldiers and other beings in several areas of knowledge, akin to one of those Special Tasks Group cells. A joint Human-Asari task group." The Admiral suggested.

"Perfect! Is everyone in accordance?" Irissa raised her hand, being answered with all men raising their hands. She could almost hear the gears of their enemies' downfall turning.

* * *

Many more hours later, after several arrangements were finished, corners polished and laughs shared, Constantine conveniently stayed to help Irissa collect her data pads data and make 'final arrangements' and explanations.

Instead, they were in his room, with soft yellow lighting shining on the shared space, delighting themselves in the aftermath of the profane act they committed, both politically and personally. Remembering the muffled sounds in the covers, the delirious screams of satisfaction, unheard by anyone but them, God, and the defeated Devil.

He stood naked behind a small counter, pouring himself more alcohol, while she stood wrapped in a bed sheet gazing towards the Martian landscape before them; black, grey and white pyramids tall as the building they were, and skyscrapers many kilometers tall shared the space with green gardens both suspended and on the ground levels, where wheeled cars, to her surprise, rode past wide streets, the only thing going through the sky being shuttles taking off from suspended landing pads annexed to buildings and on top of them.

On the distance, across the long avenue, she could see about 1km high between four buildings, with wide pathways and landing pads connecting to the St. Pavel Opera House. She was not really sure what an opera was, but she suspected it to be some kind of musical presentation. All a marvelous painting of red and yellow lights, as the celestial lights were obfuscated by the man made ones.

"So, this is Mars?" She asked to the man leaning on the granite table.

"Yes, fourth planet of the Sol system, Terra is the third and the capital of the Empire. This planet here is the biggest military-industrial complex in the whole nation. The two polished moons above us, Phobos and Deimos, are fully militarized defense stations, with every square meter covered in military facilities and Orbital Defense Batteries, as is Luna orbiting Terra. That first hotel we took you was in Terra."

"You are almost Turian like. Militaristic to the max, but not quite the same." She commented, with an absent mind.

"Don't compare me to an oversized bird." He laughed.

"Indeed, there's no comparison to be made." She smirked. "Who do you plan to include in this human STG cell your commanders are planning?"

"Jack has sent me some dossiers he received from the both the Office of Army, and Naval, Intelligence, and the Federal Security Bureau. And some he prepared himself too."

"This man, Director Harper, seems like he's very close to you." She left the bed, equally naked, to fetch a drink for herself.

"He's a childhood friend of my father, as his father was friend of my father's, and so on. His cousin owns Harper Manufacturing, one of the greatest civilian goods producers, a worthy opponent to the Elysian conglomerates. And he's my father-in-law." He took another sip.

She begun coughing on the mouthful of water she had drank "Wha-What do you mean, you're married?! Why the fuck did you not tell me?!"

"Yes, she's the jewel of my life. I did not tell you because that did not matter then." He moved out of the small kitchen, picking up his boxers from the ground.

"She doesn't knows right?" She asked, and he answered "Of course she does, in fact, it was her idea that I should be the first man to have sex with an Asari. What we, men, have only come to understand now, is that for all the sweetness, for all of the the submission and devotion they have and that they direct at us, they are also the greatest degenerates we have ever seen. Crime, perversion, deceit; they take it to the next level. The substances that we consumed that day those days ago, all Elysian made. They are a blackhole, and we're way past the event horizon." He said looking towards the Martian night. "You know, every emperor must leave a record of his career to his son, and one to the Senate, and consequently the Empire. A sort of last will, a scroll of the finest paper. Emperor Alexander, the Fearless, was the one to declare war on the Yërun Forerunners, the biggest war we have ever seen at the time. On his will to his son Valerian, Destroyer of Mehrana, he said "We were brave, more valiant than the lions of the wilderness. But fools, deceived by our own bravery. I see it now, the Commonwealth tricked us, and we threw ourselves into the fray for nothing, If not perhaps for the destiny of our lives. Avenge me, avenge us."

"What did Valerian do?" She not sat on a high seat behind the same counter, dressed in only his social shirt.

"He won. After our first victory at Viel-Esán, we had fought them to a stalemate, during 30 years. Valerian finished the war in 5, in the last year, their fleet was a fraction of what it was at the beginning, and the bulk of it was concentrated around Mehrana, fifteen thousand ships on the system and on neighboring, all monitoring hyperspace movement. We had a huge plan prepared, Operation Harbinger, ready to spoof their defenses and capture Mehrana." He took another drink "But that's not what happened, you've been explained on what the agent was, but we were not; we only detected that they had liberated a biological weapon on both our and Elysian worlds. We were as the shark who had tasted blood, the admirals and generals disregarded all higher orders when they came to know what was done. They invaded all the remaining worlds, and burned them, and the ones that were garrisoned, were slaughtered too. There were no tactics, strategies or rules of engagement anymore; there was only blood and the thirst for it."

"Why are you telling me that?" She asked, water long forgotten on her cup.

"Because, whatever happens, you will face the consequences. As we did, as the Elysians did. As the Yërun did. Though the Elysians were the ones to have it easy, they always do." He rose, finished his drink, and moved to the door. Dressed his pants again, and said as he left, without his shirt. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to the Opera House." And the door closed with a 'swoosh', leaving Irissa alone to the bottle of scotch and to her thoughts.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for the favs and follows. Let me know what you think about this one.


	4. A New Beginning

**A/N:** Today's a nice Sunday. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and I hope too you have a nice week.

As a much deserved recognition, I express my sincere gratitude to **Xabiar** , the fellow author who has volunteered to beta-read my story. Without him, this chapter would not be what it is. Thank you.

* * *

 _Mars, St. Pavel Opera House_

"There's this soldier, Kaidan Alenko," Constantine began, reading from the files Jack had prepared for them. "32 years old. N7 operative; began military career at the Army at 18, straight out of high school. He finished boot camp with marksmanship qualifications above average, then signed up for N7 at 24. Several instructors saw potential and directed him to the Infiltrator branch."

"And I assume he's performed well?" Irissa asked, looking over to him.

"45 recorded kills on counter-terror and counter-piracy missions, some shots more than 1.5 km away, which is a record of his graduation class," Constantine paused, recalling just how impressive that really was. "At that range, you have to hit someone's eye socket or the ear to achieve a lethal hit, as the probability of a kill in any other area falls to just 5%. Rifles usually only have a third of this range on the 100% lethal spectrum. He's got skills."

Irissa nodded "Where was his homeworld?"

"Terra," Constantine answered. "His parents had an estate in Africa, cattle, one of the few natural herds. His older brother assumed the business and he went into the ranks."

Irissa nodded at that. "So how is this relevant to Shepard?"

Constantine gave a slight smile at that. "Kaidan met Lucas Shepard on one of their missions together. They had a natural partnership going, so they were reassigned to a squad together by both their superiors."

The Councilor and the Monarch were currently on the prestigious Saint Pavel Opera House, on the highest private booth Valeri had reserved for them. The final acts of the spectacle were already in motion, with the Prince half focusing on the files on his lap, while the rest of his attention focuses on the ceiling paintings, which told the story of another man.

Saint Pavel, the namesake of this very building, was the first Martian, so to speak. The first man from Terra to die on the planet when it was still red. In retrospect, it was somewhat amazing how his entire story unfolded.

Pavel's first space mission, the exploration and settlement of Mars, was a complete failure. But his other mission, the rescue of man, was beyond successful. It all began in 2075, with the first manned mission being sent to Mars years later than scheduled by the pre-WW3 nation-states.

In the aftermath of their victory in the Third World War, the Aryan Empire was consolidated as the sole surviving government on the planet. However, the sheer chaos from the Pan-European Civil War, and the worldwide conflict that followed still plagued the young nation. Heresies were subverted, enemy secret holdouts terminated, traitorous dissidents hunted, and the large atheist masses still had to be converted on top of all that.

The Church was in shambles, with an ambivalent moral authority. It was supported by the government, but resented by great shares of the populace. It was almost as if they had been thrown back several centuries and many clergymen and devotees believed that organized religion would not survive, despite official support.

Amongst those that thought the contrary, was Pavel Yerzov. Born into a traditionally religious family in the small towns of Siberia, he knew nothing about deceit, politics or cunning; only about the tall pines and carpentry. Even during high school, his mathematical predisposition elevated him above his colleagues, and he was quickly sent to a government boys-only school in the outskirts of Petrograd for gifted students. He graduated shortly after and then moved to attend at the Moscow Federal University.

His brutal honesty and unrestricted kindness surprised his colleagues and teachers at the university, as well as his colleagues at Imperial Space Agency too. But what seemed in contrast to his peaceful demeanor was his steadfastness in the defense of his faith and friends; loyalty without asking anything back.

The ISA was one of the several holdouts of secular thought within the state. But it was, however, one place where competence mattered more than belief. As such, Pavel performed exceptionally. His moral qualities were one of the principal factors in his selection for the Mars Mission, despite being only 26 at the time. A man who would not falter, and neither let ego get in the way of his team or duty.

But Sainthood many times is accompanied by Martyrdom. During one particular violent sandstorm in the vast plains where they had landed and built their settlement, the shelter's ventilation suffered a malfunction which would suffocate the 8-man team, cooking them within the hour. It was possible to fix it, but it required braving the deadly environment of Mars. But everyone knew that attempting to cross the 150m field would only result in certain death because of all the air being redirected towards the shelter and from the certain injuries he would suffer in the run.

Bickering and conflict broke amongst the men, all of whom did not want to die for strangers. Their leader turned out to be equally petty and unapt as them, lacking the nerve to appoint someone or to go himself. They only stopped when Pavel was already running out of the airlock.

The young engineer managed to fix the system, the issue being nothing more than a burnt cable. But he forfeited his life in the process, as multiple rocks had hit him in vital areas during his dash towards the base. The internal bleeding as a result killed him shortly after the life support for the shelter was reestablished.

When the storm subdued, the mission crew found his body on the engineering section, holding a crucifix in one hand and a picture of him and his parents on the other. A bright and compassionate boy, barely out of the juvenility of his mind, who did what none of them had been willing to do.

The shame and regret was too great for any of them to bear any longer. The mission was quickly aborted, and the base was left as it was, with Pavel's body being buried in the plains of red planet. Today, his tomb is beneath the Seat of the Bishop of Mars, in the Central Martian Cathedral. It wasn't surprising that a building as magnificent as the Opera House would be named after him too.

"Here it says that Mr. Alenko and Mr. Shepard have had a few disciplinary issues before." Irissa noted, letting the question hang in the air.

"Boys will be boys," Constantine shrugged. "Let me read you Shepard's file before you judge them too harshly." He picked another file from his lap "Lucas Shepard, N7 Soldier. He has 16 successful missions together with Kaidan, during that time developing a familiarization with diverse forms of combat and weaponry and accumulating invaluable field experience, as well as leadership capability." He read aloud.

"What are his origins?" Irissa asked while looking at the picture of the soldier in question.

"Born on Eridani Prime, some light years away from Sol. His father was a government official, who did mostly bureaucratic work and his mother was a restaurant owner," Upon reading the next lines he let a small smile grace his face. "Here it says his father did not like traditional Elysian food at all, however the owner was the thing that kept him coming back at lunch hours."

"How _cute_ of him _,"_ She snorted, before pressing on. "But the question is: do they qualify?"

"Of course they do," He assured Irissa as he turned to her. "And you, what do you have for me?"

"Initially, I would include my bodyguard, Spectre Nyava, and the Asari Commando Mayrithia, who was present during our first meeting," Irissa began. "The Spectre has her own personality issues, namely her morality, but she's a highly capable and experienced agent."

She paused, as if considering further. "Commando Er'tan on the other hand does not have experience, but she, much like Mr. Alenko, was the top of her class. I am confident she is capable of performing in the field, and able to keep up with your own soldiers."

Constantine nodded. "Very well then, you know them better than I do." The show finished as he did, and rising together with Irissa, clapped in appreciation of the tragedy. On their departure, she intertwined her gloved hands on his left arm, white silk sleeves running down until her forearms, and together they left through the reserved halls.

* * *

 _Port Meredith, undisclosed Army facility._

Port Meredith was one of those planets out of a sci-fi movie or novel; 5,000 parsecs away from Sol. As the 6th planet orbiting Hesperus, it was essentially frozen ball on the outside, with 20 km of rock and ice separating the arctic surface from the currents of warm saltwater running into the oceans and seas below; much like a moon of Jupiter, minus the fact that all of Port Meredith was heated by the planet's active core. To Kaidan, it looked like a petit gateau on planetary level; even the K9 units found it a bit too cold for comfort.

Despite the hostile and cold environment outside their complex, Kaidan's forehead was sweating, as wet as the fountain Lucas's parents had in their garden. Their hands hung besides their waists, hovering above their pistols. A model M25 Beretta, military issue with ultra-polished lens, effective up to 100m without significant laser diffraction, 100% lethal at 50m and less, with non-lethal stun function enabled.

And such a power setting was the one that mattered right now. Both Alenko and Shepard stared at each other from across the mess hall, all their colleagues on the sidelines watching the duel take place.

"That day, Kaidan, it was me who mixed milk to your gasoline." Shepard said.

Kaidan's eyes widened in a split second, and in that same moment, both their hands flew towards their weapons. The men drew their pistols and instinctively aimed at their opponents from their hips; if one watched the scene in slow motion they would see the true winner of the standoff.

In his anger, Kaidan was the first to press the trigger, with a thin lightning bolt leaving the barrel and impacting Shepard's abdomen instead of the usual laser, sending electrical currents through his body and causing his muscles to spasm; forcing his diaphragm to suddenly expand and expel all the air from his lungs. However, one particular current flew through his right arm, ironically making him involuntarily contract his fingers.

If seen in normal speed, all the fellow N7 operatives saw were two electric discharges for a fraction of a second, and then two men crashing on the ground, trying to regain their breath as their muscles extended and contracted randomly from the sudden shocks. Around them the crowd erupted into laughter and cheers.

"Shepard! Alenko! Shepard! Alenko!" Their fellow soldiers cheered, as they amused themselves at the demise of the duelists.

"Lucas, I…can't believe…I-I fucking can't." Kaidan managed between gasps for air.

"Of co-course it was me, dude. W-Who else knew you were…going out with that girl?" Shepard answered, while he laughed between his own coughs.

"You asshole, she was _perfect_. All I needed was my car to work on _that_ day, just _that single day."_ The black-haired man growled as he got up, holstering his pistol, Lucas mimicking his actions.

"That's why I messed it up for you, Casanova." Shepard answered cheerfully, while both of them began handshaking in what they thought was draw between old friends.

" _Operatives Shepard and Alenko, report to Colonel's office immediately._ " The voice suddenly came through the wall speaker. The two soldiers instantly flinching upon hearing their names, adding of the amusement of the gathered crowd.

* * *

"Your deployment this year was commendable Corporals, the last mission an absolute success" The Colonel declared, while he scratched his mustache; the silver skull and bones pin shining in his lapel. "You are excellent soldiers, some of the best I've ever commanded. However, the Empire needs you elsewhere."

On the other side of the room, a man in a black suit rose from his chair, and spoke for the first time since they arrived "Corporals, I am here to take you to your next assignment. Any questions will be addressed later."

Silently, they stood straight and saluted their former superior, with him doing the same; no words needed to demonstrate their mutual respect. The travel between the underground complex and the nearby spaceport was also silent. Only once inside the shuttle were they able to speak.

"I assume you're from the MID?" Alenko probed.

"Indeed I am," he confirmed with a nod. "You two have been re-assigned by a superior officer towards a ship that will be newly commissioned." Upon receiving understanding nods from the soldiers, he continued explaining. "The missions you will undertake during your stay there will be no different than the ones you've taken part: Infiltration, assassination, extraction of high value individuals and/or information."

"Counter-piracy? Or counter-insurgency?" Shepard inquired.

"None." He stated flatly. "Pre-war recon and governmental destabilization. May or may not include _terrorism_. I have orders to withhold no information from you. The situation is the following: We have made contact with a new alien government."

He allowed the information to sink in, studying their surprised expressions. "Covertly, that government has leaked information to our own officials about the unexplored Galaxy beyond the Arm. Namely about the other star-nations and their current geopolitical situation. As such, the Empire saw that an alliance to topple those governments from within was paramount to our foreseeable future and also to our immediate security."

"I take that this alien government is allied with the others too?" Alenko asked, narrowing his eyes.

"That is correct. In short, there are three extraterrestrial superpowers currently embroiled in a triumvirate, one can assume from our own experience that they are in an unconventional cold war."

"Who will we work with and when do we begin?" Shepard asked, leaning back on his seat.

"For now, two other selected N7 operatives and two aliens, on the ground fire team." The man answered as the shuttle landed, and the three men stood and began moving towards the exit, waiting for the ramp to lower down.

"Crown Prince Constantine selected you two himself, so don't disappoint him," the man warned. "Your ship will be ready in a short time. Meanwhile, you have time to get know your colleagues." That said, he left the transport and stepping into the pavement, walked away, leaving them alone.

* * *

 _AES Vindicator, Conference Room A_

They had arrived at the AES Vindicator not much longer after arriving on the spaceport. Shepard and Alenko, along with every military personnel on the planet had heard about the battlecruiser's arrival on the main spaceport, along with the rest of the squadron. After all, it was not every day that a squadron, assigned to fleet which in turn was assigned to a region on the other side of the Empire, visited Army black site facilities.

However here they were, in what they assumed to be a conference room inside the ship, while the vessel itself rested beneath the blast doors of the dock. Unlike most land based spaceports which were basically giant canals at open air in which the ships landed inside, Port Meredith required special measures to combat the hazardous weather; such as the heated doors above them, shielding any vessel from the snowstorm above.

Both of them stood at attention before two officers, waiting for them to begin. "At ease," the older man stated. "I am Sergeant Werner Krüger, the man beside me is Corporal Javier Alonso." Javier said nothing, only nodding in a respectful manner. "I'll go straight to our specializations; we've got no medics, but Corporal Javier is an Engineer and I'm a Soldier myself."

"We are honored to be selected for such a mission, sir," Shepard proclaimed, leaving the harsh salute and moving towards a relaxed stance. "We also look forward to working with you and Corporal Alonso, sir. I am Corporal Lucas Shepard."

"Likewise, sir," Kaidan added, mimicking Shepard's movements. "I am glad His Majesty saw valor in our performances. I hope our time under your command to be successful, sir. I am Corporal Kaidan Alenko."

"The feelings are mutual, soldiers," he said, motioning towards the two aliens in the room. "Now, this is Spectre Iremi and Commando Er'tan. They are our Asari allies in this mission."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Iremi said, inclining her head towards the N7 operatives. "I have heard good things about you two. During our work together I hope to be able to know more about your culture and about yourselves. I am a Spectre, a branch of the Citadel Special Forces. And my colleague is an Asari Commando, a highly trained individual in most areas of warfare."

"Good to know we're with capable operatives. Are you here to brief us?" Alenko asked.

"Indeed," She used the handheld electronic device that was supplied to her, an archaic piece of equipment in her opinion. It seemed primitive to use screen based displays, but here she was "What now you see are the territories of the three Council nations and their associate governments in relation to your own nation. Our mission is to do deep reconnaissance on them and to fabricate a war between the Salarian Union, in green, and the Turian Hierarchy, in red…" She then went on to brief the newly assembled fire team on their final goal, solidifying the early stages of a galactic plot of the greatest betrayal yet.

* * *

 _AES Vindicator, Fitness Rooms_

They had long departed for space; the 12th Squadron, or 'Great Fucking Taxi Formation' according to Captain Erwin, weaved its way through the inferno outside, breaching the currents of plasma and leaving Port Meredith and a part of the N7 operatives' lives behind.

Despite its name, the icy planet wasn't a trading or logistics hub. But instead a staging ground for N7 operations, secret from the general public; a planet devoted to the immediate intervention against piracy along the adjacent shipping lanes, and to quickly respond to any signs of insurrection within the sector.

It was a place Lucas and Kaidan had spent a good amount of time working. Numerous smugglers busted, pirates executed, and terrorists arrested. All under the command of the FSB, which identified, tracked and ordered the termination of troublesome individuals or movements; the eyes and ears behind the trigger happy hands that were the N7 Imperial Special Forces.

Lucas currently held the sandbag hanging from the ceiling in place as Kaidan punched relentlessly. With nothing to do but to wait for the 2 day travel to Sol to finish, they resorted to training; both were currently clad in training shorts, black tank tops and barefoot. Unknown to them, they were being watched by Mayrithia, who was aching to test her own martial prowess against the new species.

"So, any of you two up for a spar?" She asked, a smug look on her face as she walked towards them in her own training bodysuit.

Hearing that, Kaidan stopped his assault and acknowledged her presence. "Perhaps Shep here would entertain you. I've got to hit the showers. Don't kill him." Then proceeded to push Lucas lightly in her direction.

"Very well, you fucken chicken," He muttered to a grinning Kaidan, before turning to the Asari. "No weird powers, no hits towards the crotch. You fine with it?" He moved to his own side of the sparring mat as she answered.

"More than fine. You're on!" She exclaimed, immediately beginning her series of high kicks, forcing Shepard to move several paces backwards to avoid having his jaw hit.

Dodging under one of those kicks, he send one of his own towards her support leg, expecting to land a hard hit and topple his opponent with the near to the ground attack. Except he to saw the Commando perform what he thought to be impossible; she immediately switched the leg in the air for the one on the ground, dropping to the ground headfirst, avoiding his attack by mere moments.

However, she did not crash her head on the floor, but instead used her lithe arms to backflip away from the human, landing on the other side meters away from his reach.

Lucas assumed a boxing stance, circling his opponent, studying her own form. After seconds that seemed like hours, he lunged forward; punch after punch missing their target as she either deflected or dodged, utilizing her alien martial arts; all the while hitting him with unmatched speed. Swift kicks to his thighs and blows to his abdomen and livers in sharp contrast to his own strikes.

One of them she had to block, though. And that was when the problems began; a pre-gene soldier's punch would hurt of course, but a post-gene punch doesn't only _hurt_ , it sends you _backwards_ if you're not on the same level of strength or prepared for it.

And that was what happened, the unexpected force broke her defenses, hitting her in the chest and sending her flying back, hitting the ground with her back; diaphragm expanding and sending the air out of her. Shepard wasted no time to close the short distance, trying to immobilize the alien.

Mayrithia was no common soldier however, she was an Asari Commando. Quickly recovering from her initial shock, she braced herself for the grappling match with the N7 operative. She rolled on the ground, avoiding his grasp, and then quickly wrapping her legs around his back; her own arms going for his neck and arms.

With moments of oxygen left before he passed out, he did the classical roll into the air, making his opponent crash her back on the ground again, this time with his own weight added into the equation.

That proved to be his winning move. Mayrithia lost her grip on his neck in the futile attempt to stall the fall with her arms. The operative spun out of her weakened leg clutch, pressing his left forearm on her throat while cocking his right arm for a devastating punch. One she knew would knock her out.

She conceded, tapping the mat two times. Being rewarded with the man placing both arms on each side of her head, and with the precious influx of air to her lungs.

"You're way too fast. I could barely avoid your attacks." Shepard said, wheezing as he got up, helping her in the process.

"And you punch like a Krogan," She commented moving towards the water machine, sweat running down her face and neck. "I avoided all your attacks but _one_ ; but the _one_ that hit sent me down. The difference is that you humans seem to use your brains in fights, not only your muscles."

"What is the name of your style?" He asked, while hanging a small towel around his shoulders. "It used all the power I sent and redirected it away. It was incredibly frustrating."

"Ra'varna Yakshi. Way of the Night Wind," she explained. "It is an ancient Asari martial art, redirecting the aggression into nothingness, and then utilizing the same frustration from the enemy into flaws for your own aggression."

She turned to him after grabbing her cup of water "If you're interested, I may show you what biotic powers _truly_ are before we enter combat." She offered casually, while taking sips of her water.

"I'd love to," he agreed. "And perhaps then you'd tell me what a Krogan is. Anyway, nice to meet you, and even better to fight you." He said nonchalantly. With that, they parted ways, with Shepard walking out of the room with one thought in each of their minds.

 _Alien, but not so alien, after all._

* * *

 **A/N:** You can imagine the song of your free will, and I expect you to do so. However, if anyone is interested, the song at the Opera House, while not an Opera, is Ave Maria. Performed by 'The Cathedral Singers' and conducted by Richard Proulx.


	5. The Great Destroyer

**A/N:** Another chapter! This time filled with action and misconceptions. Credit be to my Beta Reader, _**Xabiar**_ , for polishing this chapter and editing it into its final form.

* * *

 _Imperial Senate, Terra_

"Esteemed senators, compatriots, and friends. Here I stand before you again, with a situation we have not seen in many years since the founding of our assembly." From the seat of the Senate Chancellorship and Imperial Regency, Emperor Ferdinand began to address the assembled legislators. The Emperor was clad in the usual plain business suit that was widespread across the Imperial administration, much like the senators in the semi-circular seats and desks before him.

The only differences between them was the elaborate scepter the Emperor held in his right hand as he spoke, the symbol of authority over the vast Imperial expanse and army. And on his lapel was a golden pin, the twin headed eagle with ferocious talons and hungry mouths.

"As you know," he continued. "The Asari Republics have offered us the hand of friendship and cooperation against the alien superpowers that inhabit their realm. And as you are also aware, Constantine, together with our diligent MID Director, have accepted in my name such offer."

At the mention of their names and titles, the Crown Prince and Irissa from their seats and bowed in reverence to the politicians.

As the Emperor stated the result of the meeting days ago, murmurs spread across the domed building, voices rising in agreement and disapproval of the outcome before quieting as the Emperor prepared to continue.

"A large share of you today here were chosen by the people and the people alone," he reminded those assembled firmly. "You are the embodiment of their voices, reasons and desires. So, it is your duty today to vote and deliberate on the merits of such an offer as I, my heir, and the Director have. Then through you the people shall speak for or against such an alliance. And if both powers are in agreement, it shall go forward." He paused "I extend the word to the leader of the Conservative party, Maximillian." He pointed with the scepter at the man in question, who rose and begun his speech.

"Your majesty," he bowed his head at the regent, who returned the gesture before he continued speaking. "Fellow senators, I urge you to listen to me today," he began, slowly looked to the both sides of the semi-circle, eyeing every member "We have passed through such a moment before in our history: When the Commonwealth came before us, like the Asari Republics do today." Maximillian pointed at Irissa, who sat below the elevated chair of the Emperor, as murmurs and whispers of agreements and remembrance were heard.

"And they have offered a similar alliance," he said, lowering his voice as he maintained eye contact with Irissa. "'Defense in times of war, mutual cooperation in state matters and economic harmony'. Now I ask you, where has that led us?"

He paused dramatically.

"Disaster, I tell you!" He exclaimed, evoking the shouts of several senators, with booing and applause mixed in as he continued, creating a cacophony of old men bickering. "Have we simply forgotten? Does the Great Interstellar War mean _nothing_ today? Are we not what we are today in consequence of our actions that day, when we accepted the offer of aliens?"

"Order! Order in the house!" Ferdinand declared as the bickering worsened, hitting the scepter many times on the solid wooden table, the sound reverberating through the chamber and silencing the parallel debates.

"Before someone accuses me of disagreeing with the Pact, or worse: I love my Elysian wife with my whole heart," Maximillian defended, in an attempt to placate the dissenting voices. "She gave what I consider most precious after all; my children. And I thank God every day, for not letting our own mistakes be the undoing of our species and dreams. As He provided once, He provided again."

That placated the assembly, as even those in disagreement with him had to concur. After pausing a few seconds, Maximillian finally closed his speech. "But a man who does not learn from his mistakes is a fool. So, please, my fellow senators, fathers and husbands. Think of our future, but think about it with the images of our past in your minds." He finished and sat, to the applause of many members of his party and others who agreed with his position.

"Well spoken, Maximillian," the Emperor said. "The word is now with the leader of the Liberal party, François." He pointed at the other man, who rose and bowed in the same manner as his predecessor did.

"My friends and brothers, what Maximillian says holds truth," François said, shocking many of the men present "But to a certain degree only. Indeed, the man that doesn't learn from his past is a fool. And indeed, God provides to us all. However…" he dramatically paused.

"We have fought and overcome the Yërun in open warfare!" He exclaimed suddenly, his voice radiating power and authority. "Let's not forget that the same God has bathed us in victory!" Those rousing words inspired many of those assembled to rise and applaud his statement.

"Have we lost something incredibly precious in the process?" François asked. "Yes! But we have _gained_ it again! Ages ago, when our young nation rose to supremacy on Terra, we had the dream of our ancient destiny." He pointed at the bundle of sticks engraved at the marble wall ahead of them, in the direction of the Emperor's chair.

"We had dreams of flying through the stars, we dreamt of untold glory and adventure. And we found it! We found everything we had ever wanted. So, why stop now?" He inquired passionately. "Why stop, when He has given us the golden opportunity to make ourselves known through the vast void and time? With our names engraved in history?" He pointed a finger upwards, alluding to the Divine.

"So I say _yes_! I accept the offer, the stars will be ours!" He exclaimed, to the thunderous applause of his peers.

After the general commotion had quieted, Ferdinand addressed the men present. "Anyone else wishes to speak?" Being answered with silence, he continued. "Very well, may the voting begin." With that, the large panel on the left wall lit up with their names of the representatives and their votes.

After minutes of internal deliberation, the results showed on the massive black screen:

"In favor of alliance with the Asari Republics, 290 votes. Against the alliance with the Republics, 190 votes. 20 have abstained from voting." Emperor Ferdinand stated to the assembly. "It is settled then. The Interstellar Aryan Empire, our colonies and worlds, together with the consorting Commonwealth companies will adhere to this Alliance. Further details shall be developed in the following meetings. This assembly is adjourned."

* * *

 _Imperial Palace Royal Gardens, Terra_

Irissa and Constantine sat on a bench within the Gardens, enjoying the autumn on the Northern Hemisphere, with the leaves from the numerous trees beginning to redden only to eventually fall during the next weeks.

His own coat was around her shoulders to warm her from the cold breeze that blew across the vast location; cupped in her hands, was a warm mug of coffee one of the aides had brought. The addictive drink helped the coat do its job.

Turning her head towards him once more, she asked what had intrigued her since the First Contact "So, how all of this came to be?" She inquired, casually pointing with her free hand towards the palace and the gardens. "You've never told me the whole story…"

Understanding the true meaning of her question, Constantine smiled for a brief moment and began speaking. "I'm glad you asked," he said, deciding to start from the very beginning. "Well, in 1914, the First World War began. The French Republic, the British Empire and the Russian Empire were on one side, and the German Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire together with the Ottoman Empire on the other. It can be said that it all began there. From the conflict of those six nations the whole world was plunged into chaos. Which later would involve the Italian Kingdom, the Japanese Empire, and the United States of America."

At Irissa's nod, he continued. "In 1917, the Russian Empire retreated from the war due to the Soviet Revolution. During 1918, the German, Austrian and Ottoman Empires were defeated, stripped of their power and political relevance. Later, the Russian Empire would be replaced by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, stretching from Minsk to Vladivostok."

"You mean socialist in the same sense as you are?" She asked.

"No, socialist in name only," he clarified, shaking his head. "It was a hijacked revolution, fabricated. But anyway, later in 1923, the National Socialist movement is kick-started by Adolf Hitler, in the German Weimar Republic, with a similar version in Italy taking place by Benito Mussolini, with his March on Rome. In 1933, the NSDAP becomes the ruling party in the destitute German state, forming with Italy the so called 'Pact of Steel.'"

"So, it can be said that these men were the fathers of your Empire of today?" She pursued, turning to face him better.

"Yes, without doubt," he confirmed. "All we are today is fruit of their efforts centuries ago. The world then enters a new age, with three political theories that share the field of politics; Capitalism and its liberal democracies, Communism and its socialist republics, and Fascism and its dictatorships."

"And I assume these new political factions didn't coexist peacefully?" Irissa asked rhetorically.

Constantine chucked dryly. "An understatement if I've ever heard one. No. In 1939 the Second World War begins. It would involve again Germany, Italy, the Empire of Japan, the British Empire, the French Republic, the USSR and the United States. Effectively all nations at the time with the exception of Switzerland, where we are sitting today, and some other irrelevant states. The Fascists saw staggering initial success against the others, but as I explained, the Capitalists and Communists sealed their cabal against them. Eventually, the whole world was set against the Axis."

"Wait, you lost in the beginning?"

Chuckling again, he answered. "Yes, we did lose first. But we achieved victory later, from within. After the conclusion of WW2, two superpowers emerged: The Soviet Union and the United States. Both countries entered in what we call the concept of a Cold War, working in constant conflict through proxy nations, diplomacy and a technological, economical, space, and arms race. Through the possession of huge nuclear arsenals at the time, a direct war between the nations would be devastating to all life on Terra."

"But that didn't happen," Irissa guessed. "Not that time, anyway."

"Correct," Constantine nodded. "In 1991, the Cold War ended with the United States as the sole surviving superpower following the collapse of the Soviet Union into disparate republics; with the strongest being the Russian Federation, which inherited large parts of Soviet infrastructure and weaponry, including the totality of its nuclear arsenal."

"But how did you managed to acquire power again?" She pressed.

"The power of the enemy turned against itself." He re-adjusted himself on his seat "A corporation at the time of the year of 2010, Harper Technology and Manufacturing, was one of the pivots to our re-emergence to political power. As you can imagine, Fascism was discarded as a political party after the Second World War by the powers that were at the time, so the movement fell into marginality and obscurity. However, with the inherent flaws of the other system exhibited for all to see during the Cold War, margin was given to us once again."

"Why? How?" She had now turned fully towards him, eager as a kid listening to a story.

"Well, you have to first understand the concept of Meta-Corporatism," he explained. "It is when a company, or companies, once achieving prominence in the capitalist system of open competition, wishes to rise above that system because the very engine that made them into what they are, now begins to threaten their dominance. Do you know how the socioeconomic system was eliminated in Russia?"

"If what you described to me earlier is true, with the oligarchs that appeared after private property came back; corporations and wealthy individuals seized the market by becoming the state itself, directly and indirectly through the revolutionaries…" She answered.

"Exactly. In the same way multiple multi-nationals funded the October Revolution, HTM funded us in the beginning. 'Why?' you ask."

He didn't wait for an answer to the rhetorical question. "Two things: Idealism and promises of untold profit. Thomas Harper believed that he could truly built a better world for mankind and get richer in the process, thoughts that were product of his grandfather's legacy, who was a British volunteer for the Axis. So, he began the arduous job of funding these movements and sowing sedition through the world. Later he began contacting fellow individuals of power and wealth with similar thinking or upbringing, and formed his own cabal of power."

Irissa frowned. "A secret society?"

"Not quite," he corrected. "A think tank of those individuals focused solely on the acceleration of the collapse of the new unipolar, and at the same time multipolar, world. Both in the economic sense and in the social one. They foresaw the clash of different civilizations at the time, the Western, the Eastern, the Arab, the Hindu. All of those would ultimately fight for dominance, until only one remained to form a truly global government, or a hegemonic nation with several satellite states. It is not surprising that today, those corporations who joined Harper's society are the main Human enterprises in operation today…"

"But when did it really start? Again, I mean…" She questioned once more.

He was happy to oblige. "In 2025 conflict erupted in the Middle East again. After the Iraqi and Syrian insurrections, the United States was forced to enact another military intervention; this time allies turned into enemies and former enemies turned into allies. A war against Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Due to a change of governments in the previous decade, Russia and the United States were much closer diplomatically, and invaded those areas together in a show of political force and military power, a clear message to the People's Republic of China and to Indian Republic. You must see, at that time, proto-fascist elements had already infiltrated within several offices of both republics, and in the several other European nations. The Saudi-Egyptian War was the preface of the coming conflicts."

He stood up together with Irissa, and they began to make their way back to the Palace. "By 2033, China had tripled its nuclear arsenal and enacted a severe modernization of its conventional armed forces, thus giving it and its allies the position to enact a plan years in the making. Namely, the Second Korean War and the Chinese Invasion of Philippines and Vietnam, later evolving into the Far East Asian War; having started in 2039. It all went downhill from there, the United States and Russia intervened together against China, and it almost escalated to WW3. At the end, China had taken Malaysia, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar and Thailand; at the cost of moderate to heavy losses for its Navy and Army, which were absorbed by the population; and the failure of the Invasion of Taiwan."

"How did it actually develop? The war I mean…" Irissa questioned.

He smiled. "After much of the Chinese forces were mobilized towards the south, Russia attacked without warning, surprising Chinese divisions at the border, and forcing the People's Liberation Army to redirect resources and manpower from South East Asia towards the Northeastern regions, alleviating the opposition towards U.S. Navy Carrier Groups defending Taiwan and Philippines. It also trapped the North Korean Army between the US forces landing from the Sea of Japan and its own armored divisions thrusting from the border with China, not to mention the stealth bomber strikes stemming from the Kamchatka Peninsula and constant American raids from land bases in Japan."

Still walking by his side, she asked. "How did it end?"

"Two years after conflict exploded, the Tokyo Accords were signed by the three superpowers," he explained. "Russia would move the border with China 400km forward, some two provinces, and both South and North Korea were annexed after both countries were devastated by the war. A clear treason by the United States in relation to its old Asian ally, but a compromise to its newest European one. China would annex the mentioned nations, and with the exception of Philippines, which would become once again an American protectorate. That war was the advent of the stealth fighters in serious combat against equal opponents, Chinese J-20s and J-31s; American F-35s and F-22s and Russian Su-50's and Mig-42s." They were nearing the entrance and he began concluding the unofficial history lesson.

"Going back a few decades, after the collapse of the USSR, the seeds for a nationalist revolution in Europe were planted, and after the cooperation between the most powerful militaries and companies in the world in the Far East Asian War, the revolution was deemed almost certain by Harper and his acolytes."

Constantine paused for a moment. "Bear with me. During the beginning of the 21st century, China rivaled the United States for the position of superpower and usurped Russia's position as the patron of the unaligned nations. But at the first half of the 21st century, the seemingly defeated former-soviet republic and the decadent leader of the free world stood tall against the Asian Juggernaut. A boost in morale surged through the western world, the forgotten masses saw what they could achieve together, what was withheld from them. A remembrance to a time when the world bowed in reverence to the Colonial Empires of old: Spain, Portugal, France, Great Britain, United States of America, Netherlands, and the own Russian Empire."

"And that was what sparked the next war?" Irissa asked.

"Partially," Constantine admitted. "On the evening of the 8th day of May, 2045, one hundred years after the conclusion of the European front of the Second World War, my ancestor Giorgio Valeri, General Commander of the Rome Military Region, declared the Italian government illegal and seized the city. His actions reverberated across NATO, several bases across Italy declared support to his decision, together with Generals and Commanders across Western Europe; in Spain, France, the United Kingdom, Germany, and Poland. You will be surprised at how much people Harper had placed on the chess table."

"He had all those nations' militaries infiltrated?" She questioned with her eyes wide.

"Indeed, a genius! And not only the militaries; media, politicians, everything!" Grinning he continued "On the night of the same day, Serbian fighters bombarded Kosovo and Bosnia; Greek air defense began shooting down any Turkish airliner or military jet that came across the Aegean, cruise missiles from the Russian Black Sea Fleet destroyed the bridge linking Western and Eastern Istanbul, a strategical and symbolical move amongst other targets in European Turkey.

The governments were quick to condemn the acts and moved with their _numerous_ loyal forces to put down any revolutionary sentiment, but it was already too late for them. Large swathes of the population rose in support in sometimes peaceful, sometimes violent protests, some of those were, of course, directed by Harper or by his enemies; it wasn't long until tensions rose between those opposed and those in favor, and not long after they took up in arms against each other. It all went down pretty much how civil wars usually go, bloody."

He paused after describing that dark period. By that time, it was already dark, with the shorter winter day being over. They entered the Palace again, Irissa having returned his coat, while making her way through the halls with him.

"And what about the other countries, outside of Europe?" She finally asked after minutes of silence.

"The United States declared war on Canada, and begun the systematic governmental transfer and purge," he answered flatly. "With several offices that were already being occupied by men chosen by Harper and his colleagues. Corporations that did not participate in the cabal were immediately closed, and all blueprints confiscated.

The Russian Federation invaded Eastern Thrace, Ukraine, Belarus, the Baltic States, and on the very night of the coup, paratrooper regiments were dropped in Scandinavia, which would become of the areas with most resistance to the movement; not to mention that it threatened the whole word to not intervene in the Civil War.

By the end, as I told you, fighting your own compatriots isn't easy, all borders between them were erased. The dream of ' _A World With No Boundaries_ ' was finally realized. North America, Russia, and Europe, united to never be separated again." He finished, the dreamy look of national pride in his eyes.

They were now seated at the dinner room, awaiting for the hot soup to be served. A luxurious room, with the yellow lighting of the crystal chandelier shining upon them.

"Do you want to know how WW3 began?" He asked, smiling softly towards her.

"Yes, by all means." She said.

He nodded. "After the Empire was established, around fourteen years of preparation took place. Much like the obviously staged May Revolution, WW3 began on 28th of July, 2064, in anniversary of the First World War. Much like the second, it was a war for _revenge_. It was also the first war to see use of space warfare, with satellites being shot down by dedicated ABM systems, including laser weaponry. Basically, we declared war on everyone else."

He begun to take sips of his soup and continued "The first target on the night of that day was Tel Aviv. Like the invasion of Iraq in 1991 and 2003 and the Saudi-Egyptian War in 2025, hundreds of planes took to the skies to seize the initiative. The city was lit on fire, power stations, police stations, governmental buildings and airports were bombed by both cruise missiles and penetration bombs launched from aircraft. All ships at the ports were either disabled or outright sunk. After the opening shots in Israel, we attacked Georgia, Azerbaijan and Armenia, the first falling to paratroops invading from Russia. After the initial bombing of Tel Aviv, the Arab world attempted another union to drive off the Israelis from Palestine and to expel American forces within Egypt.

Months later, Turkey and Iran would follow suit, with airdropped divisions from the north, amphibious landings from the south, and the ever pushing army from the west. India took no chances and begun the first nuclear exchange of the war, bombing Islamabad and other Pakistani important locations, which were followed after by the invasions of Nepal, Burma, Bangladesh and Somalia, and then Pakistan itself, the last one would drag for months until the our forces met."

He took another sip of his soup before continuing. "From the Iberian Peninsula, Morocco and Algeria were swiftly invaded. From Italy, Tunisia and Libya were attacked. Due to the previous capture of Egypt, much of the forces there were then used to strike Israel and the Saudi Republic. It was nothing short of the 21st Century Crusade. However, some nations' resistance was futile, even when in the lowest of the low the European nations still detained the largest of all military stockpiles in the world compared with underdeveloped nations."

Irissa, enthralled by the tale of actors whose actions reverberated across distances and lives, could not take her eyes off him as the story went on. She had long forgotten the half eaten soup on her plate.

"…In a stroke of genius, General Gerhard Schneider bypassed 200 thousand Israeli troops and was able to capture Jerusalem, effectively encircling their entire Southern Sinai front. Lebanon, to the north, was overrun in three days, in another two, we had several divisions already sieging Tel Aviv, which fell together with the country two weeks later. The capture of Mecca and Medina the next month dealt an unthinkable blow to Islamic morale, Pakistan and the Saudi Republic capitulated within the day of the capture of the holy cities. Afghanistan, hardened by several insurrections and invasions in the previous decades, was the first target of Imperial nuclear attack; Kabul and all major cities were immediately burnt to the ground by MIRV rain. A true decapitating strike, as Afghanistan had no early warning against ballistic attacks, all leadership was immediately eliminated, leaving the defending troops even easier prey than initially thought for the troops that crossed the Iranian border…"

And so he went, narrating the great events of the 21st century to her. A tale so epic, of victory and glory and revenge, she thought it to be on par with the Iliad or the Odyssey, together with the great feats of Hercules and Achilles; mere fiction. A tale narrating the downfall of civilizations.

But before, on the days she stood hosted on the Imperial Palace, he also told of the great geniuses who too were inspired by such tales; Julius Caesar, Octavian later Augustus, the equally great kings of the Middle Age, the explorers who found the American continent and later circumnavigated their world, the monarchs of the globe-spanning colonial empires, and also the lives and memoirs of the generals who fought in their World Wars.

The men who had basically laid out the foundations of post-modern warfare, their legacies invaluable to the past generals.

' _Perhaps to the future ones as well._ ' She mused. It was a shame she had to return to the Citadel.

* * *

 _AES Intruder, Tuchanka's orbit._

"Approaching planet, CDEM patrols heading 090 South, 180 East. Probability of detection less than 20%. ETA, twenty minutes," the navigation officer declared, as the frigate drifted forward in space. The complete black paint job and the lack of any visual identification made the discovery of its fabricant impossible to an outside observer.

Since Imperial-Republican First Contact, two months ago, the Asari patrol was exchanged to a Turian one, as was customary in the space around Tuchanka. The next, of course would be Salarian.

Two 2.5km long Hierarchy dreadnoughts were now docked on the small orbital spaceport with their escorts, cruisers and frigates patrolling the immediate orbit of the Krogan homeworld; though their mighty Thanix spinal-cannons, scavenged from Prothean caches were unnecessary in such a peaceful system.

Sometimes, their escorts would have to shoot down the rudimentary ICBMs, some stray clan fire at them or at each other, a cleaning job to be brutally honest. It was unworthy of the displaced military might.

"Excellent," Nyava said, and once she observed that they hadn't been detected, rose from her captain's seat and moved towards the door. "Warn Fireteam Alfa to ready themselves, we're going into a hostile environment."

The _Intruder_ dashed through nothingness, fielding 24 torpedo tubes along its broadsides, and several IADS turrets spread through the hull together with the single swiveling GASL below the bow. It also included a mix of Asari and Human-Elysian technology; a QEC for instant communication with Thessia and Hyperwave-Subspace transceiver for communication with any Imperial vessel or station over the incredible distances. Tadars could monitor fleets light-years away.

Silaris diffractive outer armor plates complementing the Durasteel inner armor and superstructure and the potent 6 anti-proton engines, together with the weaponry and made the AES _Intruder_ , or _Project 885_ , the most advanced vessel to date. The pinnacle of spaceship technology.

The SS-N-65 'Sunburn', was a ship-to-ship torpedo resembling the ancient cold-launched SLBMs; a two stage missile, consisting of an initial boost rocket and a later maneuvering and propelling stage. While slightly slower than an F-88C, it still had feasible speed and maneuverability to be combat effective in contemporary space combat. Carrying a single pure orillium warhead with infused teldar shards for fragmentation, it was devastating once it penetrated ship armor.

The downside is that its high heat and electronic cross-section made it able to be detected and engaged with early warning by enemy space combatants or interceptors. And due to the slow speed relative to other torpedo designs, few managed to get through an advanced defensive net. Even then, they would have to overload enemy shields, kinetic barriers, or armor to cause any real damage.

But it was an acceptable tradeoff, where three or four are sufficient to achieve kills on a cruiser or carrier.

The IADS, or Integrated Air Defense System, was the fusion of the mighty, land based, SAM batteries and a devastating version of the rotary railcannons mounted on aircraft and AAA vehicles. A 20mm rotary railcannon discharging 300 rounds/sec at any foe its sensors track at close range, for early interception it mounts 4 MIM-505 'Longbow' tubes on each side of the turret for mid to long range engagements. While the IADS didn't achieve the 100% hit probability of a GARDIAN laser, it had the bonus of certain lethality when it hit, either with the 'surface-to-air' missiles or with the CIWS cannon.

While the ground element readied themselves on the cargo bay, the pilots commanding one of the MHA-44 Hammerheads stored inside ran the last pre-flight checks on the gunship. Lucas, Kaidan, Werner, and Javier, were busy with their own gear.

Javier, who was beginning to put on his armor, couldn't help but notice the highly technological gadgets Mayrithia was putting on; the helmet frontal digital screen, above the rebreather displaying information on her weapon's thermal status, her shield status, and other displays he could only guess at. On her left arm, the omnitool glowed orange while she typed a message to someone important or dear.

She noticed, of course, and looked innocently towards him, questioning him with her eyes only.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Javier apologized. "It's that your gadgets are… _interesting_. What do they do?"

Smiling, she closed part of the distance towards him "Well, the helmet does the usual; monitors my shields, my weapon's temperature and it has small IR detector, which translates the inputs into a small radar in my HUD. The omnitool is for interacting with any kind of technology found on Citadel space, which has Prothean code for basis. And my HUD always displays my weapons' crosshairs, as it is integrated with the gun computer, which helps with targeting calculations. Which then are transferred to the digital sights and my helmet." Eyeing him up, she saw the black armor of strange materiel and fabric, with a silver skull and bones emblem in the chest, several pouches, and his M45 SMG.

"You don't seem to carry much," She commented. "And what _is_ your armor anyway? It doesn't cover the whole body."

Suddenly conscious of himself, he began explaining. "My job doesn't require too much. I either fix, invade, or destroy things. Just my computational suite, which is a specialized and EMP-hardened small datapad; the C-8 demolition charges. Some general mechanic and electrical tools too, if any vehicle dies near me."

"You don't use a HUD?" She noted, somewhat surprised as she looked at his helmet.

We don't use any heads-up displays in the ISF, neither in the armed forces as a whole, only the pilots have them, but they're sealed in the aircraft anyway," he explained. "They stop working at the first heavy EMP anyway, just visors which tint themselves to block the sun and provide IRNV, and a small heartbeat sensor on the forearm, that's like, 21st century technology…"

He paused briefly before continuing. "About the armor, it's a mix of energy and kinetic protective alloys and paddings, and a self-camouflaging material on the outer layer and on our fatigues. Sorry but the way it works is classified. The helmets themselves have simple air filters." He finished, letting a small laugh slip at the seemingly humble gear.

"I can't believe you people use such old things still…" She did not stop until the words had already left her mouth before realizing what she'd said. "Oh, no! That's not what I-"

Amused at her choice of words, he interrupted her "Don't worry about it. It's like the old saying 'If it's not broken, do not fix it'. Engines are an example; with a normal plasma cell we can generate a reasonable anti-gravity field to levitate and propel cars, tanks and such things, but then everything would cost ten times more; anti-graviton emitters aren't exactly cheap. Not to mention it is an ass to fix."

"Corporal Alonso! Quit chatting and get into the gunship. We're dropping in five!" The Sergeant suddenly yelled from the Hammerhead ramp, in his usual no-bull tone.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Javier immediately turned and dashed towards the aircraft, his SMG swinging from side to side slung on his shoulder.

It was a distant reminder of his school days, running towards the bus stop, attempting to not lose his ride. Only his SMG was replaced by the brown pack he carried everywhere.

Behind him, Mayrithia shook her head at his antics while she slowly made her way towards the transport.

* * *

 _Operation Debut, Tuchanka's surface_

"The situation is the following," Nyava stated loudly through the comm link to the assembled team inside the MHA-44, as the sub-sonic gunship danced through the violent storms above the surface "The concentration of Krogan individuals here is the highest in the Galaxy, since this is their homeworld. As you were briefed, the Krogan are a very violent species of reptilian 'humanoids.' They are, together with you, the species with more muscular concentration and strength, however, their inherent territorial nature prevents them from being sophisticated at warfare. Essentially, they are only useful as shock troopers."

The soldiers nodded while she continued. "Due to this and other facts of their biology, both the Salarian Union and the Turian Hierarchy seek to use the species as slave-soldiers, but they are very hard to catch and won't comply with such a purpose on their own, even as mercenaries. Not to mention the level of genetic engineering necessary to cure the Genophage needs countless specimens and a considerable amount of time." The ship shook some more as the ionized clouds around the region swirled on themselves.

"But one day, they'll succeed," Nyava warned. "Then one of them will have an army of mindless drones, and that simply won't do for us. So we need to eliminate the ones here in Tuchanka, so to accomplish that we'll destroy the Shroud. It is a massive mass accelerator and bio-stabilizer. It shoots micro-mirrors in orbit to keep this planet from cooking everyone alive, and repairs the atmosphere by liberating specific chemicals in the air, creating a somewhat green area of around 10km of radius around it, which currently is expanding. When we destroy it, the planet will be doomed in no more than 3 months, as this is the last monolith standing tall after the rebellion."

" _Prepare for touchdown in thirty seconds."_ The pilot said over the internal radio.

"That classifies as terrorism I suppose." Krüger said "You know the drill boys, don't die." After a pause, he got up from his seat and turned off his gun's safety lock, along with the rest of the squad.

" _Wait for the green light. In 5…4…3…2…1. Good luck out there_." The pilot said, as the green light replaced the red one and the ramp lowered.

Fireteam Alfa deployed from the gunship in a hurry, securing their landing surroundings and immediately moving through the ruined city streets; as roaming Varren packs scurried away from the landing ship, and the strange figures leaving it.

* * *

Twisting and turning on rubble littered corners, trespassing rusted fences, and avoiding CDEM ground patrols, the squad had covered much ground already; as the approaching tower shown in blue-silver in the distance as night fell upon them.

Shepard was in the middle of the formation together with Kaidan, Javier and the Commando in the back, with the Spectre and the Sergeant at the front. In his hands was the M74 Assault Rifle, the brain-child from the Heckler & Koch and Kalashnikov gun manufacturers. It combined design features from previous firearms and Forerunner technology, as well as firing crimson colored energy beams with a width analog to a 7.62 bullet of old; the energy for them being stored inside the slightly curved magazine.

It was a relatively light weapon, as a result of not having to carry solid ammunition or excessively heavy firing mechanisms. Equipped with a forward grip for ergonomic firing and a simple sight for 3x zooming without any bullet drop measuring markings for obvious reasons.

However, in his back, he did not carry the usual combat backpack with supplies and other things, but rather a single cylindrical package, weighing almost 50kg. A heavy burden as they had to maneuver through the urban landscape.

Kaidan, unlike their officer and Shepard, carried the M212 Sniper Rifle on his back, while the reliable M25 was on his hands. His weapon was considerably longer than the M74, with a longer barrel and additional lenses giving extended range to its shots, together with the bigger stock. It shot beams comparable to the width a .50cal round, if a link between the old kinetic energy weapons must be made; however, it did not have the absurd recoil from such a high caliber.

One might think a bright DEW as the M212 would negate the aspects of stealth required for a sharpshooter, but that is hardly true, considering the beams lasts for milliseconds; a time shorter than the firing flash of a projectile gun. On would only see the high powered laser if looking directly to the barrel, but then, it would already be too late.

The burst fire mode in assault rifles is different, firing 3 beams per second; it can safely be said that sustained fire will reveal a firing position to the enemy. A single burst looks like a single beam, which in fact is just the afterimages of the three that were actually fired, merging together in the eyes of the witness.

Kaidan's armor was many orders lighter than theirs, focusing on mobility and stealth, but sacrificing defensive potential. Sporting the usual skull and bones of the ISF, a reduced number of mag pouches and a too smaller number of C-8 charges than Alonso had.

Javier was the middle term between the Soldiers and the Infiltrator. A not so flexible armor, but no so heavy either, allowing him to carry his engineer backpack filled with tools. The M45's muzzle and the attached reflex sight swept through every place his eyes laid on.

Irissa and Nyava had the highest quality gear afforded by the Citadel. Armor light yet durable, rifles and shotguns that took far longer to overheat, supported by fragmentation and overload grenades to quickly eliminate any opposition. Together with their biotic powers, they were a fearsome 2-man element.

They were running through the myriad of destroyed structures, left and right, up and down; which then suddenly turned into grasslands, the first signs that the Shroud was ever closer.

They continued on the same pace, until they reached the first CDEM forward operating base; Krogan analogs for cars turned over and rusted from the passing of ages littered the field before the gate and the watchtowers along the thin prefab wall, covered at the top with razor-sharp barbwire.

Sandbag emplacements with soldiers and titanium caltrops made the path to the entrance a zigzag, perfect for the two HMGs on the towers to shred anyone with hostile intentions. Searchlights and IR cameras swept through the grass from several angles covering many meters ahead from the facility.

Manning the several firing positions were numerous mercenaries, or 'private defense contractors' as Nyava had put it. Silence permeated the fields, the only occasional sounds of grass being rustled by the wind that sometimes blew.

It was suddenly broken by a loud crack of expanding heated air mixed with the distinct electric-like sound of the energy ray. The chest of the guard manning the HMG at the top of the left tower was torn open, with his armor pierced and barriers ignored by the high powered shot.

The second guard was pulled from his post and cover as blue energy enveloped him, being immediately targeted with Nyava's special electrically charged ammunition, which quickly overloaded his barriers and armor while Mayrithia held him in place, killing him swiftly.

Alerted by the commotion, guards rose from their slumber within the improvised pillboxes and begun their frantic search for enemies only to be met with successive laser shots from the advancing ISF operatives, or the superior ammunition from the Asari elite soldiers. Blue and green tracers shared space with the crimson bursts from the humans in a show of color and death.

In no time the human engineer was already at the gate, bypassing the alien bodies and planting his demolition charges on the sealed entrance as the klaxons started to rang after the firefight.

After placing and arming two of them, he joined his squad mates, including the sniper, further along the wall "3…2…1…Breaching!" He warned, before pushing the trigger on his remote detonator.

The steel gate was destroyed, leaving a large smoking hole on the middle, as the Orillium-enhanced plastic explosive ignited, after the simplistic radio command sparked its mechanisms.

The attack surprised the guards behind it, who expected a digital invasion instead of a physical one to open a way inside; and those not vaporized by the explosion or shredded by the hot shrapnel from the gate were thrown back with extreme force, breaking bones and exoskeletons as they hit the walls and structures behind.

The Alfa squad rushed inside, finishing any stunned guards with lethal efficiency, including the ones on the other guard towers, who were quickly dispatched by Kaidan's successive shots.

They ran sweeping the area for any remaining enemy and found none; the proof of a well-executed insertion. Nyava then moved further inside the main building, together with the rest of the operatives, cleaning the place of any stragglers and also their pockets and safes of credits, while Javier wiped the computers' drives of any record of their presence.

Finished there, they proceeded with hijacked one of the six-wheeled jeeps and departed the base, driving across the fields, nearing the ever growing monolith.

Minutes later, their approach began differently than the one in the previous facility "Tower Base, this is Ikeda one-four, requesting permission to enter main base with Sergeant Yamada, over." Nyava said through the onboard comm suite, sitting on the passenger seat besides the driver.

" _Permission granted, Ikeda one-four, make your approach at gate 5, out._ " The voice answered over the commlink. Immediately, Werner began to drive through the indicated vector on the vehicle's digital windshield.

Mayrithia, who manned the HMG on top of the vehicle, begun the onslaught of paperclip sized bullets towards the silver tower's perimeter ahead which caught guards and personnel by surprise again, them only realizing that the incoming jeep was hostile when deep green tracers made their way across the night on their positions.

They bypassed the outer perimeter without caring to cast a second glance at the disorientated and suppressed guards, who were only now managed to close the gate and sound the alarms.

The inner perimeter, in the assumption that no one would get through the outer defensive turrets, was composed of only a simple fence with barbed wire. The military jeep just unceremoniously crashed through it in seconds. All the while Mayrithia continued to wreak havoc on anyone that looked like a guard.

However, despite having cleaned the main open area, the barracks were buzzing with troops waking up and gearing themselves to repel the intruders. It would not be long before the inner and outer perimeter were buzzing with troops once more, not long until they would be overwhelmed by massed fire.

Knowing this, they rushed inside the main shroud tower facility. Nyava was quick with her Omni-tool, remotely sealing all the doors to the building. The frightened engineers scurried away from their terminals, running through the halls back to the obscure and unimportant rooms; bathrooms, cantinas, and supply storages, only to be mercilessly gunned down by grains of tungsten and beams of crimson.

Once inside the circular building, Corporals Shepard and Alonso immediately directed themselves towards the central power core. There, Lucas unloaded his heavy package on the ground, opening the bag to show the metallic case and the control panel above. Javier, tech savvy as he was, immediately began working on the device.

Back at the central control servers, Werner and the two Asari guarded the main door from any assault, while Kaidan, provided overwatch over the entire complex from the roof.

"India Actual, this is Alfa-Two, extraction confirmed in twenty minutes?" Werner said back in the central interior.

" _Affirmative, Alfa-Two, India-Hotel One and Two will be down there to support you, over."_ The voice answered over the comm.

"Copy, India Actual, airstrikes must be at the orange flares, out." He instructed to the comm operator up in the _Intruder_.

Out of nowhere, the loud and distinct sound of laser fire resounded across the building, the mixture of lightning from the expanding air with the then unheard sound of particles being discharged on a solid target.

Kaidan sniped one foe after another, in the neck, head, chest, or legs. At first they came in groups of six or ten, attempting to return fire against the unseen sharpshooter, but after being victim of a weapon that ignored their barriers and pierced their armor with ease, they stopped coming altogether.

Shouting orders and cries in their strange language, Salarians, Turians, Asari; a myriad of mercenaries powerless against the crimson beams of Kaidan's weapon. A weapon that centuries before would have broken his shoulder from the repetitive firing of the high caliber rounds, but that now barely moved as he pressed the trigger.

"Sergeant, they will stop coming for now, but they'll soon send reinforcements. Ten minutes no more!" Kaidan informed his superior.

"Copy, Corporal. Javier and Shepard, when you're ready, meet us at the roof, our time is short." He ordered the two soldiers down below, while moving upstairs with the Spectre and the Commando, who kept warding off any digital intrusion to the main system, keeping the entrance sealed.

* * *

Cpt. Paul Fischer, codename 'Swordsman', with his hands on the joystick of his lead-colored Sikorsky-Yakovlev MHA-44 dashed again through the skies of the alien planet, while Lt. Alex Milestone, 'Stalker' his co-pilot, armed and manned their secondary weapons: the 12 AT-35s anti-tank missiles inside their lateral missile bays and the nose mounted 30mm railcannon. The two wing-mounted Scorpion rocket pods, carrying forty eight 57mm FFAR HEAT-Incendiary unguided rockets, were at Paul's direct control.

Behind them, bearing the emblem of the Imperial Navy as well, was Lt. Frank Sinclair 'Oracle' and Flight Sgt. Daniel Fletcher 'Rifleman'. Both flying the second Hammerhead aboard the Intruder.

At 600km/h, the subsonic crafts flew hugging the ground to avoid detection by any sensor; ionized clouds being long gone with the stratospheric wind, not offering cover anymore. A dance with sudden explosive death, weaving past ruined skyscrapers and mountains towards their extraction site.

"Oracle, I wonder if Rifleman this time will be able to beat Stalker's kills." Swordsman commented, mirth in his voice.

" _Hahaha, don't be so proud of your partner."_ Oracle answered over the radio. " _Rifleman here can hit a football ball kilometers away."_

"I still have doubts about that, mind you..." Stalker chipped in the conversation.

" _Perhaps today I'll prove it was true, Stalker. After all, we have some aliens to roast."_ Rifleman responded to the playful jab at his pride.

"Or perhaps today we'll have definitive proof you were flying under alcoholic influence that mission." Swordsman said to the laugh of his fellow pilots. "But enough with jokes, we're nearing the LZ."

India-Hotel Two, the craft manned by Oracle and Rifleman, rose in altitude above India-Hotel One, turning on its active sensors to peek over the horizon, analyzing what awaited them at the landing site.

Twelve heavy vehicle analogues to tanks and APCs made their way across the field from one outer outpost to the main facility, with the intent of suppressing the enemy sniper who decimated anyone with courage to peek their heads out of cover, or to run for the inner perimeter fence.

" _India-Hotel One, we have positive confirmation of twelve armored vehicles heading towards Fireteam Alfa's location, over."_ Oracle commed to the flight leader below.

"Copy, India-Hotel Two. Looks like Rifleman's wishes came true after all. You move ahead and eliminate those vehicles while we extract the fireteam. After I give you the signal, disengage them and RTB. Do not linger behind or you'll be caught in the blast, over." Swordsman ordered over the commlink.

" _Yes, sir. We're moving to engage, Oracle out."_ Oracle answered, pushing the throttle forward until his craft reached borderline supersonic, impossible to trespass the sound barrier within the atmosphere; 925km/h was as fast as he could go.

Disappearing in the distance, the gunship crew grew eager to test their weapons against the new foes. More than the opening act of a catastrophic series of events that would plunge the galaxy against itself, Operation Debut was also the first real combat Imperial equipment would have against Citadel's own gear. Invaluable information would be acquired today, both from the actual engagement and the hacked data cores at the Shroud Tower.

" _I have a lock, tadar only, they're too far away for an IR lock. First vehicle of the column. Two Wolverines in, three…two…one. Missiles away!"_ Rifleman declared, pressing the small red button on his joystick.

In a calculated motion only a machine could do, the two compartments on the craft's sides opened, ejecting two AT-35s in the cold nightly air. The missiles, no longer than 1.5m, soon ignited their thrusters, speeding ahead from the gunship towards their targets in two bright yellow glares from their boosters; achieving hypersonic speed in no time at all, with engines far more potent than required.

* * *

Many kilometers ahead, the unsuspecting armored column raced towards the Shroud Tower. Alerts of a breach were quickly sent to the outlying outposts, which in turn tried to warn the orbiting fleet, but couldn't. Something that wasn't the natural occurring radiation was jamming their communications with the HQ above.

Reports of a single jeep from FOB Ikeda approaching the Tower Base with Sergeant Yamada as passenger. Of course, Sergeant Gavan Yamada was known for his erratic and unpredictable behavior, so a visit at midnight was something not out of his character.

Turned out he is probably dead now, as the vehicle came in with the HMG blasting anyone in the way, killing the relaxed guards and penetrating the inner perimeter before anyone knew any better. Adding to the fact that Ikeda did not answer to any comm, they were probably all dead. Added to the fact that the enemy had cutting edge weaponry, including what they suspected to be DEWs. 'Yeah, they're completely dead.' He thought.

Those were the judgments of the senior Turian officer in charge of the armored assault. He knew the operatives who did that had to come from a set of entities: Blackwatch, but that was illogical to him; Spectres, but that was too illogical, to some degree; Asari Commandos, probable, but no evidence was found, and the Asari weren't running any experiments on the Krogan as far as he knew; the only choice left was STG.

Smart enough to not leave any traces of communication, skilled enough to murder an entire Firebase on the fly, and resourceful enough to have superior weaponry.

'Yeah, definitely. The lizards are behind this.' He thought to himself; though they were cut short however, as his systems began flaring in warning.

"Lock on alert, unidentified sensor! Missile Inbound, over-the-horizon! Spirits, it's hypersonic!" His young Salarian gunner alerted, while the driver frantically performed defensive maneuvers, popping flares up in the sky and raising their barriers together with the rest of the vehicles, dust and gravel being kicked up from their harsh movements.

Turning his remote IR camera around, he had mere seconds to glimpse the missile before it hit. The intense heat coming out of its long extinguished booster still lingered as it glided towards them, inertia allowing the weapon to speed through the fields without additional impulse.

The Wolverine impacted the tank with tremendous force, the tandem warhead exploding with staggering intensity and heat, dissipating the tank's barriers with the successive detonations.

However, the single missile wasn't enough to actually do any harm to the vehicle itself; as the flames and explosion were deflected by the kinetic barriers, turning the vehicle for a brief moment into a ball of flames, before said flames died out and revealed the intact tank.

"Barriers are down! No hull damage!" The gunner stated what his screen told him.

The tank commander was about to let a loud sigh of relief…if it wasn't for the second alert blaring through their compartment.

"Another one! Top attack vector!" His gunner alerted again, destroying all hopes he had of finishing his combat tour on Tuchanka. All he could do now, was close his eyes.

The pitch black missile darted across the sky, this time with boosters on, as if a shooting star descended upon them. It impacted the vehicle with speed faster than the naked eye could follow, first penetrating the relatively thin top armor, allowing the second warhead to enter the crew compartment, giving the aliens inside an instant and painless death; all in the time frame of milliseconds.

With the sudden loss of their commander, the second in position quickly assumed the vacant spot and begun to bark his orders to the fellow vehicles; 5 tanks and 6 APCs remained alive.

They immediately left the burning carcass that was the commanding MBT behind, doubling their speed towards the objective and with their remote-controlled HMGs swiveling up and down, back and forth searching for more missiles.

Their search proved to be accurate, ten other missiles were inbound to their position, blasting their way across the dark sky from multiple vectors of attack, sending cold shivers through their spines.

Machine guns went crazy, trying to act as point-defense systems; endless streams of green tracers illuminated the night. However, their firing computers were not as advanced as those in the powerful ships of the Hierarchy Navy above. None of them found their targets, as the missiles danced to and from, making impossible zig-zags in mockery of their attempts.

Two of the tank crews, witnessing what happened to their commander, and in light of their current situation, quickly halted their futile defense and their tanks, and disembarked through their emergency hatches, fleeing certain death.

The Sergeant, not being able to turn his attention away from the inbound attack, did not admonish the routing soldiers for their cowardice or threaten them with harsh punishment for breaking formation. All he was able to do, was sit idle in his tank, as the missiles impacted him and his fellows; killing them in the same manner their commander had died.

* * *

Many kilometers up in the sky, Rifleman beamed through the radio:

" _Six more kills to our nose, Oracle!"_ He shouted.

"Well done, buddy, good vectors of attack; but we're out of missiles. Do you think the Scorpion rockets will suffice?" Oracle asked his co-pilot.

"Certainly, there's only APCs left!" He exclaimed before continuing "One thing we gotta give them though, they aren't weak neither stupid; the image feed showed them using HMGs as point defense against the missiles. And did you see those shields? Held the first two warheads at bay!"

"Impressive use of machineguns, indeed." Oracle commented while maneuvering for his strafing run. "However, I'm surprised for the lack of APS's or even ERA blocks, they must really trust these barriers. Anyway, it's time to finish them."

He could see, through the IRNV built into his helmet, the silhouettes of the five remaining vehicles dashing with desperation towards their objective, he also saw in the distance the bright signatures of the burning carcasses together with the six humanoid figures he assumed to be survivors.

Aligning his aircraft and accelerating to full speed again, this time it was his turn to tap the fire button.

An initial salvo of rockets flew from their pods, impacting the rear of the first troop carrier. The HEAT-IN warheads, in successive impacts, downed the inferior barriers of the APC, when compared to the tank, and penetrated the armor; killing the occupants and the two man crew with ease.

The craft made its thunderous pass, alerting the others of the presence of an enemy fast mover. Mainly for the psychological effect of the flyby, much like a bird of prey during a hunt.

A pass that triggered an immediate and disciplined reaction from the mercenaries, tracer fire was immediately directed at them. Twisting up and down, left and right in erratic patterns, Oracle prepared for another pass while avoiding the AA fire.

This time, his unguided rockets hit the lateral of another APC, downing its barriers but not harming the occupants, but rather disabling the vehicle, destroying two of its wheels and the axis that held them to their counterparts on the other side, effectively crippling the Armored Personnel Carrier.

Rifleman did not waste any second to strafe another one with his 30mm railcannon while Oracle shot his rockets, spending much more rounds than a mass accelerator would take to down the kinetic barriers of the enemy vehicle. He too, instead of destroying the target, had his HE rounds destroy what he assumed to be the engine, halting the vehicle completely. A merciful act, albeit being unintentional; all those on the ground would be dead before morning came anyway.

The soldiers who had ejected from the first vehicle, bristling for revenge for their fallen comrades, locked onto the hot engines of the enemy gunship with their MANPADs'. Two missiles shot out from the ground pursuing the human craft with ferocity.

Oracle, experienced as he was, did not panic like a fresh pilot would. Instead, he released his salvos of flares and chaffs, making bright lines on the sky as he evaded them both with the skill only a veteran had. Rifleman quickly dispatched with bursts of his cannon the AA teams, in retaliation of the attack; one could even mistake the red tracers for lasers.

As they prepared to make another run, Swordsman's voice came through their comm.

" _India-Hotel Two, Fireteam Alfa is secured, the package is ready. Get the hell out of there, now."_

Without answering, Oracle begun to fly away from the Tower's outskirts, climbing higher and higher towards the edge of the atmosphere to a waiting black frigate and his flight leader; leaving behind three confused Turian crews and their squads, having 'survived' his devastating air-to-ground sortie.

Once they were sufficiently far away, approaching their mothership, the night on Tuchanka was suddenly lit by a blinding flash.

A 'tactical' nuclear demolition warhead went off below the silver tower's base, immediately annihilating the structure, the Eezo reactor, and everything around it in pure-fusion destruction.

In seconds, all the outposts, the green area around the tower and the surviving infantry from the airstrike were all consumed by nuclear fire. 35 Kilotons of TNT suddenly liberated, together with the inhibitions of the several Krogan warlords.

* * *

Minutes after the demolition, hundreds of ICBMs took to the skies, together with the hope of the clans for survival as soon as their sensors and satellites caught sight of the nuclear flash on the Shroud.

An ultimate act of aggression; a last show for the Galaxy of Krogan power and will to fight, as their race faded into the darkness. No more than half an hour later, the whole world and its continents were ablaze in a last thermonuclear war. Re-entry vehicles shot across the sky, plasma revolving their conical forms as they exploded in mighty airbursts over the few remaining urban centers and the multiple clan holdouts.

A definitive conclusion to the Krogan Rebellions.

The Turian Admiral aboard the dreadnought HNS _Akagi,_ knowing the futility of shooting down the missiles, given the now-inevitable doom of the planet, ordered his fighters and escorts to stand down and return to the spaceport. They were leaving this wretched system.

There was nothing for them there anymore. Except the seeds of deception and war.

Following the same line of thought as the now deceased tank commander had, he sent a coded message to the Primarch of Palaven and the Turian Councilor.

" _The Sun rises from the East once again. Cherry blossoms fall down from the trees in autumn."_ He said out loud to himself.

"What do you mean, sir?" His Executive officer asked, curious about the meaning of all this.

He proclaimed, to the 'ears' of the whole bridge while he looked on to the inferno below:

"It's evident," he stated flatly. "The Salarians were unable to engineer the Krogan genome for themselves, a failure to reverse their own bio-weapon. Afraid we might succeed and unleash a subservient Krogan army on the galaxy, they 'poisoned the well' so to speak."

Turning towards the subordinate officer, he continued. "By destroying the Shroud, they doomed Tuchanka to its final moments, undoing what the massive construct held together; the feeble ecosystem that managed to survive the first nuclear war and the Rebellions. Now? It won't survive another month…Only a Special Tasks Group cell fits the description of such a well-executed action."

He turned back to the view of the doomed planet. "Nonetheless, this is the announcement of something bigger, the first move of a longer game of Ishii. In any way, there's nothing to do here anymore, we did not catch their ship before, now they must be long gone. I'm sick and tired of this place: Inform Naval Command that the planet is doomed." He ordered, before striding out towards his personal quarters.

Some hours later, order came for retreat; the 9th Fleet had to return immediately to Palaven.

Following their orders, the Akagi and the Yamato slowly departed the spaceport, being rejoined by their escorts, dozens of frigates and cruisers forming up to the massive dreadnoughts.

Slipping into FTL, they quickly traversed the massive in-system distances, reaching the relay on the system outskirts and then jumping instantly towards the Citadel, and then towards Palaven, to bear the news of catastrophe.

Unknown to anyone, on the opposite side of the burning globe, a third party celebrated: Ensigns, lieutenants, the returning fireteam, together with the Asari Captain, and their gunships' pilots cheered the astounding victory. They rejoiced in the prelude of greater feats, dark and covert as they may be.

The dice had been cast across the stars.

* * *

 **A/N:** That is the longest piece of text I have ever written in a single document. Hope you all enjoy it. Also, If you left a review, it would be really appreciated.


	6. Fallout

A/N: No sun-snakes or hexa-frogs were harmed during this chapter's manufacture.

* * *

 _Hyperia, 2 Kiloparsecs away from Sol_

Edward walked through the lockers, dressed in his casual outfit, having just finished his 9-to-3 shift in the factory. His dark blond hair hung half wet on his head from the shower he had just taken. His fellow co-workers were either heading towards the showers or changing from their uniforms as they also prepared to head home.

Many more would replace them on the 3-to-9 night shift. 12 hours of production per day in peacetime; while during war, there would be 4 shifts to ensure that production remained non-stop.

Grabbing a hot coffee in the cantina, he readied himself for the train trip back home.

The factory was an immense complex, a perfect rectangle of 50 square-kilometers. One of the many that were spread through the nation and the planet. This one was specifically a plant of UVZ-General Dynamics, neighboring a military controlled spaceport. The factory itself specialized in the building of ground combat vehicles.

Arranged into several production lines, the many automated robotic arms welded, joined, and built the armored vehicles. Unlike the ancient production methods of ages past, the assembly of such tools of war no longer required the human hand in it.

Machines built the machines who built more machines; continuously repeating tasks programmed into them. He and his fellow workers merely oversaw the process to keep the systems and machines 'healthy' and on the timetable; they also tested said machines in the large test course behind the factory.

As he left the 'living area' with the crowd of employees; the adjacent building to the factory, where the offices, mess hall, lockers and showers together with the cantina stood, the sounds of the metalwork reached his ears.

The small bridges that went over the production lines gave perfect view of the machines as they relentlessly hit metal against metal; the sight of the camouflage smart-painting being applied far on the line's end, the sound many components being screwed into place by the pneumatic tools. All senses assaulted, including the taste, as he sipped the addictive drink.

Together with himself, executives, engineers, drivers and gunners with computer analysts made their way to the metropolitan train station that stood outside.

The outside was a common sight on the many terraformed worlds through the Empire: ' _Pinus radioactiva'_ , a very specific and miraculous species of Elysian pine tree. The plant populated the hills together with many other Terran species of flora and fauna, all genetically modified, of course.

Not only did the tree absorb all radiation with its leaves and spores, but it also liberated incredible amounts of oxygen in the process, with its efficient photosynthesis. It was the first species to be massively spread on Mars, or in worlds where nuclear war had ensued, including Terra.

The train station was pretty much the same everywhere one went, polished metal and grey duracrete formed the structure, transparisteel ceilings protected them from snow, rain, and the bright sun when they tinted themselves.

The maglev trains would take you anywhere if you could read Imperial Standard. Pretty much any developed world would have an extremely extensive network of lines, shipping not only people, but also cargo on the heavy duty trains.

Such lines took people from their jobs to their homes and the way back. They crossed continents and seas, together with highways linking the many cities and administrative regions.

Once inside the train, Edward saw Ricardo, his closest colleague and neighbor.

"Hey Ed, how are you?" He asked, while sitting beside the blonde man, while the train lifted and began to speed towards the nearest city.

Shaking his friends hand he answered. "Hungry, and tired," he answered, drinking more of his coffee before continuing. "I didn't see you yesterday and forgot to ask; did you fix the kitchen sink?"

"Yeah, no worries; didn't avoid drenching myself however…" He said, chuckling at his own misfortune.

"Alyra was relieved, I assume?"

This time it was Edwards turn to laugh at his neighbors words. "I actually got a scolding for not doing it earlier. Not a big deal, I'll take her to dance and dine Saturday and everything will be fine."

Edwards took the opportunity to ask his friend what has been nagging him. "So, what do you think about this whole Asari thing? I personally don't support alliances with them, since they are too eager to betray their allies. Senator Maximillian voiced what I thought word by word."

As they conversed, the forested hills gave place to vast mountainous formations, and the train entered a tunnel with blinding speeds.

Readjusting himself on his seat, Ricardo answered honestly. "I can understand where you are coming from. But I mean, they have been pretty much stuck in the position they are in. Not exactly their choice to ally with the other nations, much like we did not have any choice but accept the 'tutelage' of the Forerunners."

"Holds merit," Edward admitted. "What really worries me, however, isn't the fact that we're secretly allied to them. But if they're going to drag us into another massive conflict if the plan the Emperor devised fails. Our boys will reach 18 soon, they can be drafted into service." They exited the tunnel, as the passenger train stopped by the Sikorsky-Yakovlev plant, while the other lines heading from the mining complexes and the HTM plants connected with their own.

The line now multiplied after leaving the massive station, with their train speeding besides other two compositions along the maglev rails.

Ricardo didn't seem bothered, as he replied while happily biting his chocolate bar "Indeed, I just know that if it comes to that, we won't be caught unaware. Imperial News Network said that Senate has approved another _50 fleets_! Unimaginable, but also uplifting."

Taking the last gulp of coffee, Edward responded. "I saw that on INN too. With the scrapping of the last Saturn-classes on the way, the heavy combatant role will fall on the dreadnoughts alone. At least the massive retrofits are underway. I wonder if they'll build more strike carriers…"

"You say that only because your father was a marine…" Ricardo laughed.

"As if," Edward sniffed indignantly. "Those things carry two entire marine brigades…and don't come with the 'tracks and boots' talk again."

"Sting like a bee and move like a butterfly only works in boxing. Doesn't matters when I'm on a 70-ton monster with a 130mm railcannon, buddy. And with my triple-A buddies behind me…"

And once again, the argument of Army x Marines was rekindled, while both men made their way back to their homes.

* * *

 _Mars, Ceres Ocean shores_

Constantine actively enjoyed his holidays in the Martian summer house. Not that the ones in Rio, or even in Sidney were bad; but Phobos and Deimos gave the Martian oceans waves that topped even the wildest dream a surfer could have.

The house was a three story building, or mansion, with the usual red colored bricks and white marble columns and verandas. Leading there, from the sand, stood a deck with all a family could want. White sun umbrellas sheltered the wooden dining table, showers to remove sand and saltwater from the body, and his father's favorites, the barbecue grill and the fridge; one filled with flavorful meat and the other with the coolest drinks.

Exiting the showers, now free of salt and sand, with a towel on his shoulder, the Prince made his way toward the table. His mother, Idril, had prepared her famous roasted potatoes coupled with the Elysian vegetables she adored.

A wise woman who, together with his father, had seen that he'd grow the best example to the billions of Imperial Citizens, the role model of a nation. Her black hair, dark as the night itself, had begun many years ago to sport the same white strands that completely populated his father's head.

Andromeda and Marcel, his wife and his young son, sat ahead of him on the table. Andromeda's golden hair flew and shone in wind and his heart ached every time he gazed upon them, one was his childhood friend and then girlfriend and then wife, the single being to give his future in all levels; politically, emotionally and genetically.

The other being was that future himself, a joyful young boy, heir to the throne and to the chancellorship as Constantine himself was. He could clearly see Andromeda, and Harper, the old fox, when he looked to his eyes; that easily recognizable blue. However, the boy's face was bound to be a faithful copy of his own if his predictions were right.

The wind blew across the vast area behind the house reaching into the forest of tall pines, the grass rustled and the smoke from the grilled fish rose tall in the air. Back some meters on the same field, their yacht rested on the landing pavement.

His mind returned to the now and here as soon as his mother placed the large dish on the table, his father served the grilled main meal shortly after, while hanging his chef apron on the chair.

Ferdinand, who had sat at the head of the table, after the usual prayer before the meal, asked his son before serving himself. "So, what do you think?"

Taking the cue, he answered "It was inevitable really," he said, filling his plate with food as he continued. "Either we had to destroy them from within, or we would be enslaved. Either through the literal sense, or figuratively, bound eternally to their system. We would have a war forced upon us had we not agreed on their alliance. I must say, it was good we had a talk with the parties before. If everybody agreed, it would seem strange."

"Indeed, François and Maximillian were both equally right in their discourses, and understanding that they had to play an act for the Councilor..." his father mused, while Marcel stared at the men, absorbing everything.

Their talk however, had gotten a disapproving look from the eldest daughter of Elysia present; the crimson eyes boring through their own chestnut ones.

"I have warned you countless times to not talk politics in front of Marcel, he's but 12 years old." She said in a steely tone.

The Emperor replied as he skillfully handled the silverware. "It is necessary, Idril. Marcel, as our son, will one day have our endless armies under his control, the mighty navy and our powerful economy. He must learn, as I have from my father and as 'Tino has learnt from me."

Deciding not to pursue the ancient argument, stemming since the introduction of the royal line, Idril said nothing further. Marcel, in his education, knew better than to intrude in the conversation too.

Andromeda, however, couldn't help but muse at their current situation.

"It is ironic," she began, eyeing her husband and her father-in-law with mirthful smile "Your culture is filled with allusions and works about the mythic 'Alien Overlord'; defeating humanity from beyond the vast sea of stars and subjugating them to their obscure designs. But now, here you are, on the path to becoming the overlord of alien planets _yourselves_. 'The unseen power, the unheard storm of malice.'"

The Prince, laughing, replied. "Not only were our conceptions were wrong, but _yours_ too. You expected to find advanced alien societies, who had shed all pretenses of conflict; focusing only on peaceful trade," He took a bite of his fish. "Nonetheless, in the grim reality of the far future, you found only war, and love, nothing is exceptionally disappointing you see. You got all the bonuses of the Imperial aegis around you."

"You two keep philosophizing, and the fish will get cold…" Ferdinand playfully jabbed at the couple.

Minutes of comfortable silence passed before anyone spoke again, instead finishing their meal; both the fish caught by Constantine and the vegetables Idril and Andromeda had bought. After some light hearted talk that followed the initial argument, Marcel was bored enough to go practice his own surfing in the sea, while his elders stayed in the deck.

Both men alternated in their beers as they saw the sun go down on the distant horizon, reflecting multiple colors in the clouds and on the waterline. Idril and Andromeda, Elysian as they were, drank their crystal goblets of synthblood, delighting in the tang of the drink; staining the glass of their cups and their lips red.

"I'll never get used to that." Ferdinand said, being rewarded with the devious smile of his wife.

"It's only natural, we're predators; you're obsessed with flesh, and we are with lifeblood." His beloved answered laughing together with her daughter-in-law.

Andromeda, twirling her golden locks in one hand while the other held her cup, said with the vanity natural to her species. "Obsession is too natural in all sentient beings. By the end, our perfect forms will be exalted through the Galaxy. I have seen the way the aliens described their allies."

"Aversion plagued their eyes," Idril completed for her "They loathed, and feared, every second of their predicament. One can even think they were overjoyed to find us." The group laughed at that.

Idril, with her eyes softening and looking towards her husband asked. "Regardless, will you succeed?"

"As sure as Terra and Mars spin around Sol, and as sure as I love you." The Emperor stated, his wife's hand suddenly rested over his own, with the matching golden rings evident.

"We could not fail _then_ , and we can't now." Constantine completed, receiving the approving smile from his wife, the blood on her lips being mistaken for lipstick.

Out of the blue, as if answering the question raised by the women, Ferdinand's smartphone received a call from his old friend.

Picking it up, he answered. "Jack, what news bring you, my friend?"

" _Geronimo, for God and Country; it was flawless_. _We have begun Operation Enigma, too. Numerous operatives have been planted with the help of the Republics. The Asari Councilor also reports that not only our agents have been planted, but our actions already reverberate through the Galaxy; fear permeates some circles monitored by them, bankers, and economists, multinationals too!"_ He said, pride flowing off his voice. " _And by the way, a Matriarch wants to meet you in person."_

"Excellent, another good job on you," he scratched his beard with the free hand. "Tell me, what do you think about that bet, huh?"

Laughing, Harper answered. " _Don't get cocky! I still very much doubt it will flow that way. In any case, it has been a success; and you still owe me one hunting trip. Talk to you later, bye._ "

Chuckling, the regent finished. "Noted. Don't forget, no laser weapons." With that, he ended the call.

Rising from his seat and moving to the fridge, he declared to his assembled family. "Perhaps, it's time to open that bottle of champagne you coveted for so long, Idril…"

* * *

 _Palaven, High Command of the Hierarchy Armed Forces._

Not much time later, on Palaven, capital to the Hierarchy, deliberation about the recent developments took place.

The planet long ago couldn't resist the industrial needs of the Turians, and soon was converted into the ecumenopolis that it is today. A talon-made construct spanning the entire surface of the globe, with billions upon billions living in the dystopic urban landscape; tall pale and gray summits of steel rose above the pollution clouds; product of the massive industrial-military complex.

The native fauna and flora was preserved on other worlds, but extinguished on the irradiated planet; the oceans dried on the urbanization process, with massive quantities of water being shipped 24/7 to colonization and planet-alteration processes.

Deep barren wastelands were in the place of the lush underwater ecosystem, with the rich minerals and resources on the ocean floor being retrieved without rest. Millions upon millions of cars flew left and right in the pre-determined air lanes through the world, reflecting the harsh sun on their windshields and paintings from one horizon to another.

Back at the matter at hand; no time was wasted. The few CDEM patrols who had escaped the blast were quickly apprehended and interrogated. In short, the Hierarchy tried to wrap its head on what the fuck had just happened on the DMZ.

"…All in all, we have not been able to recover any substantial proof to point at the involvement of any known faction. Everything has been vaporized, and the environmental condition in the Krogan homeworld worsens by the day. Further groundside investigation is impossible." A Turian officer stated before Primarch Cnater and the Councilor.

Primarch Cnater turned towards Seso, the Admiral in charge of the _Akagi_ , and questioned him "Admiral, without concrete proof we cannot indict anyone or point talons. However, the point you raised holds merit; you still defend it?"

"Without doubt, sir. They will act again, I'm sure. Every indication points towards a well-executed STG operation! We must strike back! Lest we are caught by surprise again." The seasoned commander stated, hitting his hand on the table as he finished.

This time, Councilor Herilus reprimanded from across the room "Not yet! We need a confirmation on this. We cannot take harsh military action before any further escalation or proof." He paused, before adding. "It is a shame really, we were so close, we only needed some more few hundred thousand specimen to process and then perhaps we'd succeed."

While looking to the harsh landscape before their skyscraper, the Primarch said with a smirk. "Indeed. However, our advances in genetics were not futile. They may yet prove their use."

Mandibles clacking with laughter, the Councilor commented. "Definitely. I propose we blame Terminus terrorists and such scum, it's not like we're going to put them into a court. What do you think Cnater?"

The red-tattooed alien nodded. "Perfect. No one will be able, _or dare_ , to question our investigation. However, perhaps it is time to refurbish our battle plans against the Union. And evaluate the Batarian option."

Looking towards the bright orange sun across the polluted sky, the Councilor subtly acknowledged him. "It is settled then. I will head back to the Citadel; the two sun-snakes must be told of the results."

* * *

 _Sur'Kesh, undisclosed location_

"It is unacceptable! We cannot be blamed for something we have not done! This is a disaster for the Union!" Dalatrass Yulissa shouted, with her image flickering on the blue hologram.

Dalatrass Uzora from the other side of the obscured room wasted no time elaborating. "Agreed! This holds untold consequences. The Hierarchy must think right now that it was _us_ that destroyed the Shroud during their own harvest cycle!"

Dalatrass Erlana, the only to be in flesh and cartilage on the dark chamber, turned towards her fellow clan leaders and attempted to placate them. "Calm is necessary now. We know for a fact that the Turians won't strike at such minimal provocation, even though that provocation terminated both our genetic engineering programs." She looked onto the several upward-blinking eyes that bore into her, and continued. "We know for a fact that their navy is undergoing several retrofits on their newest Thanix cannon, which we unfortunately could not acquire. However, we know that our newly developed shields are orders stronger than their kinetic barriers."

Noticing the nodding heads of her peers under their hoods, she continued. "True to our doctrine, we must find the true perpetrator of this attack and expose them to the Galactic community. That is one of our imperatives."

Dalatrass Nizen who only watched, decided that now was the time to interject herself into the conversation. "And what do you attempt to achieve with this? The good favor of the _Turians_?" She questioned rhetorically. " _Please,_ Erlana. We'll be thrown back into the lagoon. Two billion of the remaining Krogan died in the nuclear war that followed the destruction of the construct, and the Krogan left are too sparse to hunt without the entire galaxy and our citizens noticing. There will be an uproar, and what do you think the Republics will do? They'll try and run our economy into the ground, with Turian help."

Now, all nine pairs of eyes were onto her "Project Sur'Hila is…effectively over, and perhaps there's not enough Krogan tissue left in the galaxy to process and analyze, even if we were to be public about the abductions. Another _failure_."

Allowing the insult to settle for some moments, she continued. "This…is a blessing in disguise. We have both denied them a weapon and tipped this ridiculous stalemate that has been lasting thousands of years. We could not hope to continue this tenuous peace forever. There's also the distinct possibility of this being a Turian false-flag attack…"

"And what do _you_ propose Nizen, Galactic War?" Erlana demanded with incredulity and disdain. "Let's entertain that thought for a moment," She paced on the pad she stood in. "We continue this game of brinksmanship until we cannot hold it anymore, forcing ourselves to attack for the mere gain of saving face. Then, after we strike, and the Turians declare war, the Asari will immediately declare neutrality and wait until after we tore ourselves to pieces."

She looked into the eyes of every Dalatrass except Nizen's. "Then, the Batarians will join us or join the Turians based on what's offered to them. Assuming the worst case scenario, they join the Hierarchy and open a second front on our worlds, and then what else? Go to the myriad of Terminus nations or even the mercenary bands at Omega to plead for help? I won't grovel at their feet!"

"Omega might even help our enemies…" Dalatrass Azena said in thoughtful consideration.

Nizen then commented, with flagrant distaste and arrogance in her voice. "That is, assuming we cannot fight them all, assuming the groups we have fed since generations won't be ready to strike from within. Assuming all the information collected and planted over the last fifteen years won't be of any help. You claim to be true to our doctrine, but you refuse to strike _fast and hard_."

She too, took her time to eye every clan matriarch. "The Batarian strength lies in massed numbers and you know it, otherwise they are inferior in every single aspect. The Turians have a clear edge in naval offensiveness, and ground warfare, but they lose in all other aspects. And don't even mention Omega, they are in perpetual war with themselves; expecting them to unite is as foolish as the Hanar awaiting for the Prothean Return."

Erlana unimpressed, retorted coldly. "This is not the first, neither the last, time that you will challenge me it appears. I am still the Dalatrass of Sur'Kesh, and not you, dear _cousin_. It is settled! We will continue investigating, I want at least two sixths of all your STG cells onto this; anything, a rumor, hearsay, a different look will be enough to warrant investigation. Search through the databases for past enemies and defectors of our domains and forces. We will not lose the reins of our own destiny to hidden actors!"

All of them bowed in reverence to the most prestigious female monarch before fading, except Nizen, whose own hologram dissipated while she smirked, eyes boring into Erlana as she returned the glare.

* * *

 _Kel'Shan, planetary capital_

Kel'Shan was the capital world to the domains of Sesoln clan, seat of power to Dalatrass Nizen and the myriad of worlds under her clan banner. The sun flared through the dispersing clouds, having rained only now. Streaks of gold made their way through the moist and clean air of the mid-day.

The Salarian architecture, with their massive suspended gardens amongst the tall skyscrapers made up for the urban landscape of their cities. A mix of grey and green, amidst the ever present flying cars and buses, together with the Eezo-suspended high-speed trains.

On the tallest building, on the very penthouse, was _the_ seat of power. The throne room of the Sesoln, within a building that was at the very center of the capital; enabling the ruling Dalatrasses to oversee the capital in its entirety.

Lit by the both the sunlight and the Asari-inspired wall lamps, it enhanced the beauty of the rich tapestries on the ground and said walls. Incense was lit to aromatize the room, and water pipes together with expensive cushions and delighting nobles took place on the steps bellow the throne.

Leaving her pod and returning to the throne room, without removing her orange hood Nizen cursed loudly, startling her assembled ministers and immediate family. "Swamp crawling hexa-frog! She'll drive the entire nation into utter ruin, into the same filthy mud her wretched mother hatched her!"

Rushing to her side, her daughter and successor, brought her the much needed cup of water with the accompanying headache pill. "Here, mother, don't agonize over Erlana." She placated, her golden and white robe encrusted with emeralds denoted heirloom.

She took the medicine though continued lamenting the dismal state of affairs. "How can I not worry about it, Cinis? She'll let this window go away and destroy both our clans' golden opportunity."

"We must find the perpetrator of this attack and ally him to our designs, I know." Her heir agreed. "But how that will see the re-emergence of our clan, mother?" She finished, returning the cup to one of the serfs.

Nizen removed the hood, and began to adorn herself with the jewels she had removed for the meeting. "We must destroy the image of the Vaerdall clan, and also the image of Erlana herself. Being who I am, and being the second most powerful clan, when they are removed from power, we will assume their place." Pointing at Cinis with one of her three fingers, whose green complexion turned ever paler, she added. "It is mine and your birthright."

She turned towards the vision of the suspended gardens amidst the tall buildings and said. "Call me whatever you want, daughter. But…I can't shake the feeling that who did this is not from the Citadel neither from Omega." Turning again towards her court, whose loyalty to her was bound since their birth, she completed, nearly whispering. "I suspect that there's an alien intelligence behind this. And if needed I will ally with them and let this galaxy burn. Only the clan matters, nothing else."

A deep shiver ran through the spine of everyone in the room, including the Dalatrass. The weight of her clan's survival rested once more on her frail shoulders.

"And why, you ask, my young daughter? Why I suspect that an alien power is guilty of it?" She moved and sat on her throne, with all the golden collars anklets, bracelets encrusted with diamonds adorning her form which denoted her position, and her power over the lives and deaths of hundreds of billions.

"We're in our early stages of directed weapons designs for the offensive role in naval vessels. Our own covert SIGINT groundside have caught reports of mercenaries shouting and panicking over straight and continuous crimson beams coming off from the enemies weapons, which did not match any known designs either," She puffed smoke from her own pipe, and continued. "Our scientists at Asari companies report that they at the same level as us on that field. Therefore, no one in the Citadel or outside the Citadel but with ties to the contemporary society has them."

Her daughter slowly gained interest in her mother's words. "If it is true, mother, how do you plan to contact them?"

"Knowledge is power; that single deliberate operation has tipped the status quo in the _entire galactic community._ " All kept listening to her, as she enlightened the room with her insight."Therefore, if I assume they are indeed well versed in subterfuge, and if _my own_ assumptions about how they think is correct; they are bound to have collaborators on Citadel space."

Cinis was now much more closer to the throne, eyes wide as every thought now came clear to her "In other words; the same collaborators who could brief them on the effects of destroying the Shroud, will also brief them in the actual situation of the Salarian clans…"

She looked directly into her mother's eyes, before shouting in exasperation. "You can't possibly expect them to come and simply recruit us! It is _madness, mother_! We do not even know what they want!"

Her mother's long laughter was the only confirmation she and the court needed.

And then, she declared the last orders. "We must first discover who amongst the nations this collaborator is. We must then re-access our situation. And then we can either let off hints, or outright contact them ourselves. What we _cannot_ do, is wait and see, as the world turns upside down and inside out, without taking advantage out of it."

* * *

 _Illium, Housing District C-23_

Arisme made her way through the streets of her district, having just stepped from the metropolitan train station into the rainy streets of Illium. The dark angry clouds hid the magnificent sunset.

She was sure she would be able to explore Imperial space with her ship after the first contact. But no, after the foiled attempt with the human captain and diplomat, she was scolded so hard by Irissa for her failure, and despite the age similarity she could not muster the same authority the Councilor had to defend herself from the unjust verbal assault.

Her ship was scrapped and her job within the Republics terminated, not to mention that she never saw her crew anymore; only Mayrithia sent her messages through the extranet, who apparently was working on something with the humans now.

Of course, if one asked Arisme, she'd say Irissa was just covering up her stupid and miscalculated order, taking it out on nameless and unimportant subordinates.

Her black heels clicked on the pavement as she walked towards her apartment building, a transparent impermeable raincoat and umbrella protected her from the downpour, were not for them, her tears would end up mixing themselves with the raindrops.

She had always wanted to do something for the Republics, something that would help all Asari galaxy-wide and engrave her name in history. Working for the Republics all these years, publishing numerous papers and helping in the many research projects, and on top of all, being assigned such a mission was her dream come true.

To have all that taken from her in one fell swoop broke her heart. Forcing her to once more hunt for an unfulfilling job in Illium, the same way she began her maidenhood.

As she walked through the crowd of pedestrians, from where someone would look at the crying Asari now and then. Perhaps wondering why she was crying, or why she would demonstrate such a weakness in public.

People who like her went to either their night shifts, or some nightclub as the night approached this half of the planet; to meet friends or companions and drink themselves numb, dancing to music and beats.

Multiple Asari, Turians, and even the odd Salarian male here and there populated the area, including the even stranger Volus who all assumed to be a banker or entrepreneur of some sort. All of them must be judging her right now, including her colleagues at 'Zesmeni Genetics' wondered why she never went out or dated.

She did not care at all, none of them knew her, neither her story. And even if she told them, they would not believe her; the only proof she had of the adventure was the alien necklace that she wore everywhere, a golden contrast to the black and white executive suit which graced her feminine form.

Once on the apartment's block entrance, she did not bother to greet the Drell doorman, whom she was sure already saw her cry on numerous occasions. She dashed through the decorated corridors and took the elevator to her apartment.

She hurried through the corridor, eager to get back into the comfort of her home. Now, she may have lost her dream job, but she had a damn good resume and her apartment was just the way she liked, one of the few things in her life that had remained that way.

She was greeted with the usual sight she was accustomed to behold all these years; the small odd space after the door whose only function was to be a transitional room between the other areas of the apartment.

Taking her coat off and closing the umbrella, she removed her shoes on the side in organized fashion and wiped her tears, then making her way to the kitchen barefoot, fetching herself a small plate of fireblossoms and two cans of her favorite soft drink. Perfect for her favorite show.

A routine she had taken in the months after her exoneration from public office, was spending lonely nights in the company of her sweets and the fictional characters on the 70" television.

She admittedly indulged into the soap-operas and sitcoms produced on Asari-space. The drama, the loves lost and gained together with the exotic locations had sold her since her maidenhood.

Only now, nearing the living room, she noticed that her house wasn't silent at all; the TV was tuned on the daily evening news.

" _In other news, Lysis, we had quite the surge on unrefined Eezo prices during the last week, have we not? The market today closed at_ 2010 credits the kilogram _, when Monday it was only_ C¥ 860!" The Turian anchorwoman asked towards her Asari colleague.

Turning towards the camera, the Asari answered. " _Indeed we have, Vatia; a rise of nearly_ **233%** _in the commodity's value. Our economists predict a growing surge for panic Eezo stockpiling in the months following the tragedy at Tuchanka; a growing demand that will only help the price to soar high. Many military analysts see the terrorist attack, as alleged by the Hierarchy, as a prelude to an international crisis; coupled with Palaven's decision to build another twenty five dreadnoughts by the fiscal year's, they wonder if we are not heading for another war…_ "

And she continued to drone on about the recent developments, however Arisme's attention was completely directed at the alien sitting on her main couch; with the sleeves of his social shirt rolled up on his arms while he stared intently at the wide flatscreen taking notes on a small _paper_ notebook.

"Diplomat Alvarez?! What are you doing here?" She questioned with the indignation and surprise only someone who had their house invaded can summon, quickly switching from the daily High Thessian she utilized in her life to the recently learnt Imperial Standard.

The man suddenly turned towards her and lied with a bright smile "Oh, Captain T'relis! How are you? It's been months since we have seen each other!"

She answered, still standing in the doorway with her snacks in hand. "I'm fine, thank you. But what are you doing in my apartment? Hell, in Citadel space for that matter!"

After motioning for her to sit down, and after her compliance, he continued. "Well…I am not a diplomat." He let that information settle in. "I am a human intelligence agent, from the Main Intelligence Directorate. We gather information and operate against foreign governments, now, my mission is to gather as much information on the diverse Citadel society as possible."

"So…during our meeting…you were really interrogating me?"

Smiling softly at her confusion, he answered. "Yes, but in a gentle way. And about the whole 'invoking foreign gods' thing, I was just making you uncomfortable. Negotiation tactic, you understand."

Chuckling at the memory of her panic at the time, a question popped at her mind after an awkward silence. "Why me?"

Understanding, he replied. "Crown Prince Constantine." He smiled at her confusion. "He came to know what, might I say unjustly, happened to your career after the first contact, and convinced the Councilor to include you in the list of 'hosts' that I could choose from. He then contacted me, which was an honor in itself, and told me of what occurred and what would happen to you had I chosen you."

"And what are those consequences of being chosen?" She asked.

"First of all, you won't lose your Republics pension that you had accumulated in those 150 years you've been working for them," he began. "Second, you will receive an extra of 20% to your salary due to hazardous conditions, covered by the government; this is _espionage_ after all. Third, no Commando will knock on your door to make sure you keep your mouth shut afterwards."

Trying to collect her thoughts, she could only whisper. "I'm without words…"

"I understand," He rose and begun to collect his baggage that rested on the carpet.

Rising with him, and wiping the newfound tears from her cheeks, she began. "I imagine you'll stay in my guest room. I don't have a luxurious apartment, but…"

While she toured the spy through her home, he said. "I don't have one either. I'm a public employee after all."

Reaching the final destination, she opened the door to show him his new room for the next few months. "Well, I have fresh towels and bed clothing on that wardrobe, together with covers and pillows; I could score a good deal with this apartment, so our bedrooms and the living room, by consequence the dining room too, have large windows and verandas as you can see."

A normal room to both Asari and Human/Elysian standards, which to the agent and the scientist-turned-executive only blurred themselves further and further.

"But we'll have to share only one bathroom I assume?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." She fidgeted with the buttons on her blouse.

"No worries. I will unpack my clothes and settle in," what he said next made her blush. "You can watch your soap-operas in peace now; I saw them booked on the channel guide."

Biting her lower lip and looking down, she gathered her courage and said. "Thank you; for allowing me to help the Republics and your government. Being given a second chance is all I ever wanted."

"It was the _human_ thing to do in such a situation. And besides," He smiled once again, with the joviality she never expected to see on a spy. "You don't have only us to give thanks to." He pointed at the pendant at her neck, one she had forgotten until now.

She could only smile back.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all who read have a nice week and perhaps leave a review.


	7. Loose Ends

**A/N:** A Galactic Standard Year has 360 days, 12 months of 30 days, with 5 weeks of 6 days. 20 hours per day, with a hundred minutes per hour, and a hundred seconds per minute, which is the Galactic Standard Time. In the Codex you can read more about it, I only modified the months and weeks, which were non-existent.

My thanks to **Xabiar** , who is beta reading this story.

* * *

 _"Revered Father,_

 _The time flies at the same speed me and my colleagues fly on our craft. I feel fulfilled to honor our family and our nation by joining the Navy. Now I truly know that we head to war, as you had told me when I left for the Academy; we train exactly what the future will require of us: bombing runs, air combat, naval warfare, and other things I cannot discuss. Rest assured, that when the time comes, we will perform our best._

 _I've been assigned to the THS Katsuragi, a part of the newest commissioned fleets. I share my quarters with my new squad mates, 3 other pilots. Fortunately, we all have individual beds, so you can reassure mother I am not uncomfortable._

 _My friends have gifts from their families too; Ishikawa has his own paper notebook, with what I suppose is a family crest on the cover, instead of using an omni-tool to record his days here. Amano, our squadron leader, has a very beautiful tanto. Apparently, it is some several decades old and he expects to never use it. Octatus is an orphan, but his aunt (I imagine) has woven herself a bandana for him, he says it brings good luck. I hope he is right._

 _I have lit more incense today, the spirit of the Navy will be pleased, as will our ancestors. I am eager to fight, I know what you said about that, but I cannot control it. It seems as if an entire gush of wind, perhaps divine, sweeps through our bodies. We had our first official drink as a squadron yesterday. A picture of us, from 1 to 12, is on the annexed files; we're at the main hangar, it is a crowded place, but we arranged a nice quiet spot to take the picture._

 _I know this is short, but we have a bandwidth quota to meet, and communication is to be at a minimum. I cannot say why. Tell mother that I miss her delicious evening tea; and young Lapilia, that I miss annoying her._

 _I miss our nightly sparring father, I miss your precious advice and company. I want you to know that if my destiny requires it of me, I will gladly sacrifice my life to serve our nation and our Primarch, but most of all, to honor my family name._

 _Truthfully, Teso._

 _12/03/3005."_

* * *

 _Varchyanka, 500 LY rimward from Tuchanka_

The _AES_ _Intruder_ had received an emergency QEC message, straight from Thessia itself, a much different one from the numerous data packages it stored, processed and relayed from the infiltrated agents of Operation Enigma towards Imperial space in the many days after Operation Debut.

This one was _official_.

At 1900 hours GST, _ARS_ _Chariot,_ while discharging their drive on unmarked and unsafe star routes,had sent a Level 1 distress signal through all bands that they were under attack, from unknown vessels of unknown design jumped straight out of FTL towards them without IFF tone.

At 1930 hours GST, communications with the diplomatic courier _ceased_.

Matriarch Irlia Axassia and her entourage were captured and taken hostage in a pirate holdout, deep within former Krogan territory. Werner had wondered first on why they had been sent to such a risky operation, which some Turian Blackwatch entourage or even a Commando squad would do the job just fine.

But then Irissa herself disclosed the true reason for their presence. The vessel was headed straight for Imperial space, and therefore had extensive data on star charts, updated with a huge golden color splash and flag marking said territory.

That couldn't get into anyone's hands. _That_ was galaxy shaking information. So, _AES Intruder_ to the rescue.

This time however, the fireteam would be three men short. The Spectre and the Commando had gone on a mission three days earlier and had not yet returned; if Werner remembered it was all fruit of a MID report passed on to High Command and then into the Republics.

Those sort of missions that can have diplomatic consequences. The less he knew, the less headaches he would have. Now, the reason himself would not be on the ground was much simpler; a plain and simple evaluation, Shepard, Alonso, and Alenko would be tested in their co-operative, combat, and decision making skills.

But of course, they did not know that, as such would ruin the purpose of the test.

The black, _alien_ , frigate left the Dirac Sea right behind the planet's moon, instantly closing the illuminated and fractured portal to the foreign dimension, and obscuring its signature from any ground based sensors.

Not long after entering a stable orbit around the satellite, UAVs detached themselves from their pods and begun their silent burn towards the pirate planet's orbit. They easily masked their small electronic cross section against the radioactive environment of space.

Hours later, once inside the atmosphere, the drones' simplistic AIs began the remote scan of the wide suspected area. Communications, sensorial radiation, thermal signatures, anything was tracked and analyzed as they flew through the thick clouds and above the equally thick woods below.

Unmanned Aerial Reconnaissance Vehicle – Model 2500. That was the designation of the newly built drone; delta winged and supersonic, built for reconnaissance and limited ground attack.

The dense forest wildlife did just what it was supposed to do; it was wild and alive, crawling, squatting, and running in the soil below. Devouring and being devoured, blossoming and withering, in the natural circle of energy.

Three aerial units circled over a large plateau, until one of them caught wind of small conversations, glimpses of communication in a strange alien language.

One unidentified voice spoke, static damaging the transmission. " _We sho-ld de-ver them to the contr-tor -ready. I don't -e the poin- in hol-ing them here any -onger. It's -en twelve -ours already, man."_

One voice much clearer, returned. " _Shut the fuck up, dude. They are paying for us to sit tight here and wait, and don't touch neither the ship neither the women. For what I don't know, but knowing isn't our job. Besides, we have a fucking Matriarch here, we're not going to be bombed if that's what you fear. And please, go to Nivlus and fix your comm already."_

The drones then began to listen to further loose talk, silently positioning themselves in a pre-determined formation, and triangulating the signal until they managed to pinpoint the approximate location of the hideout.

Deep within another peak, signals erupted from the rock and earth, and they kept listening and mapping the place as the sun went down, becoming a blur behind the clouds. The FLIR could identify living figures, even deep down beneath the foliage; one entrance, with apparently camouflaged blast doors, perhaps even large enough for ships.

The operators in the weapons room, seeing this, quickly dispatched the information towards the bridge. It was time for the hammer to fall.

* * *

The sun had long set itself to rest, but the living beings, both in orbit or planetside did not rest at all. Kaidan, Shepard, and Alonso had taken a leap of faith, so to speak.

They currently fell many meters per second, heading directly to the ground.

It was nothing short of a quick parachute insertion. The MHA-44 went high and far through the clouds, many kilometers away from their objective, avoiding detection and the trio said their prayers and jumped, throwing themselves into the nightly sky with youthful abandon.

As they opened their paras, seeing the ground approach below through their night vision visors, they felt the tug of the sudden stop to their mad fall. Guts falling down to their feet as the Gs claimed their price.

Sgt. Werner quickly contacted them during their slow descent.

" _Alright boys. First priority is to either disable or destroy any SAM you encounter and infiltrate the actual base. Once inside, open the main gate and proceed with evacuation, we'll be there to shred anyone who tries to play hero."_ After a pause, he continued. _"As you know, no vestige of our presence must be here. Good luck, we'll be there one you give the green light."_

After they acknowledged their orders, it wasn't long until they made landfall. They touched their feet on the wet grass and dirt and begun to scan their surroundings, while their parachutes retracted themselves in their backpacks.

They were in their usual armor, from heavy to light, which together with their combat fatigues, instantly adopted a digital camouflage pattern appropriate to their environment. The only thing retained was the metallic skull and bones on their chests and shoulders.

Kaidan did not carry his sniper rifle this time, instead, his hands bore nothing but his trusted M25 on his back below the parachute, and a Beretta M99 shotgun that was safely holstered. Alonso's M45 was slung over his shoulder while he established communications with the UAVs above, quickly typing on his datapad. Shepard, with an M80 LMG, manufactured by FN-SIG much like the M45, took care to check all his equipment and of his peers too, before going into the woods.

" _Operation Safeguard_ is mission launch." Shepard stated, before disappearing together with his squad mates into the forest.

The vegetation was dense, growing amidst ruined brick houses and other constructions of a gone era. Pyjacks and Varren watched the intruders run through the foliage and tall trees. Varchyanka used to be a flourishing Krogan colony, like many worlds across the DMZ before they were ultimately driven back all the way to their inner systems, before war came to them.

To them, it was all a sea of shades of green, IRNV allowed for no beauty, only function. Stars lost their magic, moons lost their allure.

If one cared to look, he would perceive many kilometers north, seven craters from hydrogen bombs used to stall a massive Turian advance. But that was centuries ago. Now, another force advanced through the ground.

A force that did not tire so easily, that ran longer and faster, and that was no stranger to nuclear artifacts. 20 kilometers crossed in 40 minutes; not a sweat broken, not even the engineer showed any sign of weariness.

The Gift flowed through their veins, permeated every muscular and cardiovascular tissue, it was deep ingrained into their bones, even in the most intimate cellular division, the one that gives future to man; _it was there._

The compound revealed itself, carved in the stone. Guards on every foxhole, with their own light machine guns watching the forest with intent and apprehension, guarding the same starship entrance the drones had spotted earlier. Awaiting for a storm that did not come.

The ISF element circumvented the emplacements, concealing their heat and forms through the dense foliage and trees, not to mention the poorly dug-in landmines, making their way to the wall by the right flank. Once past the entrenchments of manned and automated guns, they slowly and carefully climbed the rock.

Many minutes of trekking passed before they reached the top, and they were met with the dark sky and triangular metal plates scattered on the crest. Six launchers guarded the pirate den from air incursions or missile strikes, hidden under their pods, but ready to emerge when necessary.

But wherever there are remote controlled weapons, there are operators.

Weaving through the rocks like snakes carefully stalking a prey, they reached what appeared to be a circular metal door, built within a vertical stone wall, a door they hoped lead inside the hideout. Crouching in front of it, Shepard's hand signs told the squad to be perfectly still.

Carefully checking their forearm heartbeat sensors, below and ahead of them, two faint blips came alive on their small screens.

Alonso was all too eager to test his knowledge against the alien software at the door's lock. He pulled his datapad, and quickly used the adapted cable to connect directly into the control surface.

" _Clear._ " He all but whispered through their commlink, as the door swished open.

Like wolves, they peered in quietly, moving from the poor lit wild into an equally poor lit corridor.

They wasted no time; once inside the corridor, Kaidan took point with his shotgun, primed to melt any hostile unlucky enough to be on the end of his muzzle. Silently maneuvering through the labyrinthine metal paths, they neared the first victim's location, tracking their beating hearts.

A Batarian and a Salarian sat on their beeping terminals, lazily scanning the sky for any aerial incursion, as well as monitoring the compound.

The orange Salarian and the dark beige Batarian were into this particular band for a year already. Sure, they had amassed a fair share of credits for some more years ahead in their lives, but they still needed more; retirement from this life was expensive, and most of the time, _dangerous_.

At their terminal table, there was a small unidentified Batarian spirit bottle, and two cups. It was the Salarian's birthday, after all. Posters of Asari and Batarian women were plastered on the metal walls.

The four eyed humanoid was inebriated enough to not notice anything out of the ordinary, but the Salarian, however, began to turn his head in alert, hands moving to the pistol at his lap. A signal that this wasn't a random Salarian nerd turned mercenary, a sign that this individual had _training_.

Seconds too late, though.

A combat knife suddenly embedded itself into the orange alien's head; no pain felt, but a lot of green blood spilled after it was removed. His companion did not have the same luck, he felt that precious second of utter panic as he felt strong gloved hands wrapping themselves on his neck and mouth.

He could attempt a muffled scream and a counter strike with his arms for another brief second too, before his neck was broken as if it were a toothpick, and his vision faded to black.

Kaidan cleaned his knife on the alien's clothing, staining the jumpsuit with what resembled more detox juice than blood before sheathing the blade again. Xavier unceremoniously pushed the four eyed being out of the chair before assuming its place and working his own magic.

Shepard guarded the entrance during the execution, ready to cut down any alien who had possibly been warned with his M80.

Turning back on his chair, Xavier informed Lucas of their target's position. " _Shepard,_ _I detected them, detention block A, about five levels below. The motion sensors in all corridors below us, and the SAMs automation protocols, have been spoofed_. _Cyber defense is not their strong suit, I'm disappointed. Here is a map of the compound._ " The map was projected in an orange holographic image at the middle of the room.

Upon evaluating it together with the other operatives, Shepard formulated a quick action plan.

" _We have to eliminate resistance first. If we try and attempt to rescue them with hostiles, we're going to lose hostages. Xavier, can you control the base remotely?"_

" _Easy as pie,"_ He answered easily. " _Their system is barely military worthy. We're in level zero, Hangar is in level one."_

" _Begin cutting ventilation from levels three, four, and six, and cut comms through the base."_ Lucas ordered. " _Those are the armory, engineering, and barracks. Hopefully we can kill most of them quickly."_ With a quick typed sequence from the Engineer, the map disappeared and ventilation began to stop in said levels.

" _Once you're done, you and me will head to the hangar and wreak havoc, meanwhile, Kaidan, you go to the detention blocks and wipe any resistance,"_ Lucas continued. " _Once we're done down here, we'll call the starship to clear the MGs outside and you escort everybody up here."_

Receiving acknowledging nods from the soldiers, they darted outside.

* * *

The hangar was a complete mess, but where the technicians did repairs on their equipment and refueled their starships. Spare parts were scattered the ground among fuel pumps and electrical cables.

The sounds of metal on metal, screwing and welding tools was heard everywhere, much like a normal factory.

People and soldiers moved to and from the place, loading more slave cages into the vessels. The large blast door that lead outside stood closed, with the artificial lighting allowing them to work, while their companions guarded the outside.

Suddenly, the lighting went off. A door swished on in the suspended pathways above, that lead from the control room inside the hangar.

The metalwork stopped and gave place to confused shouting, complaining about the lack of light and communications. The only light visible came from the welding torches, which too subsided to the safety of the operators.

Out of the suspended rails, thunder and lightning came. The area was suddenly lit red with the onslaught of the machine gun in Shepard's hands. He had something no one had bothered to place while off duty, the night vision gave him a clear edge against anyone opposing their objectives.

The loud cracks reverberated as mercenaries, technicians, and aliens of all sorts, were cut in half, dismembered or left a mass of Swiss cheese.

The first victim, an unaware Batarian technician carrying a supply box, was suddenly struck with a beam on the chest. He wasn't wearing any protective barrier neither armor, so the resistance was even lower; the beam vaporized his clothing and impacted his skin. One would think it would make a cauterizing wound and that would be it, but reality was different, the water molecules that made up the living being were suddenly heated beyond their evaporating point as the energy was transferred upon contact.

This sudden transformation caused such molecules to expand instantly. His skin was tore open in a localized steam explosion, arteries and blood vessels were disintegrated along with the same skin and anything below them.

The result was a gaping hole, roughly the volume of two human fists, bleeding freely and with severe burns spreading further from the impact point, not to mention the throwback force from the expansion happening on the very skin of the target.

Long story short, not pretty. _At all_.

The powered shots ignored kinetic barriers, finding no resistance whatsoever in unarmored targets, at first came from the upper level with the advantage of height. Gunfire and laser intercalated within the sealed compound, laser that occasionally ignited an oil barrel, lighting the place for a brief moment and taking many with it in the fiery explosion.

Once the aliens, the few that had any weapons with them and did not cower, attempted to resist against the unknown force, directing erratic fire against the originating position of the beams, their projectiles simply meeting nothing; the ISF operative with the light machine-gun constantly changed positions between the suspended paths before resuming the assault.

Laser fire came from the ground now, thunder from the expanding heated air and the released energy alerted those unlucky to be nearby, the sounds reverberating greatly inside the confined space. Even the unarmed technicians who had attempted to reach a terminal and turn the lighting back on were dispatched with a single grenade, heated shards tore through their skin and their organs were severely damaged from the shockwave.

Alonso flew through his enemies like a wraith of old Elysian myths, murdering enemies who could not see him with whatever weapons were available; hands, knife, firearm and grenades. All under the watchful cover from Shepard, relentlessly massacring the fleeing workers, who were out of Xavier's immediate grasp.

In less than two minutes of slaughter, only two beings stood alive on the place; silence reigned occupying the cacophony of before. Xavier, down on the killing ground, pulled his datapad and turned the lights on again: Body parts, charred corpses, damaged equipment, and blood of multiple colors was everywhere.

Dismembered Salarians with green blood oozing from lethal wounds; Turians cut in half with clothes stained with blue blood; Batarians with the red liquid, to the surprise of the soldiers, flowing without restraints from their wounds.

Shepard joined with the young Engineer below, removed his helmet due to the apparent calm, and replacing his spent mag while commenting on the carnage.

"Poor bastards, didn't stand a chance. Couldn't run, couldn't hide." Drops of sweat were on his eyebrows, from the extenuating laser firing.

" _Better them than me,"_ Xavier replied, replacing his own battery. " _Play stupid games, and you win stupid prizes, Sergeant says._ "

"Why do you think we're here?" Lucas asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

" _Because of other's mistakes. It always is like that._ " Xavier removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, continuing. "No one in the Citadel apparently bothers to clean up this whole area of space. I was talking with Mayrithia the other day before she and the Spectre went on their own mission, this whole DMZ thing is only demilitarized in name, several governments and third parties conduct shady business within the abandoned planets. The only off limits system was that one where we blew up that tower."

Shepard chuckled at that. "Imperial Special Forces, now known as space janitors."

Checking the heartbeat sensor on his forearm, Shepard saw that no more circular green blips remained. On the display, only his and Alonso's blue diamonds appeared, indicating that the area was apparently clear.

"Now we wait Kaidan's confirmation." He said, putting his helmet back on.

"I'm going to ruin the Asari ship's data cores," Xavier answered, before moving to the chromed ship on the far back on the compound. "Hope they did not tamper with anything too sensitive, or I might as well just blow it up."

* * *

Barven was scared shitless. He did not fear as much as he feared for his life until now. If the Volus species _had_ a heart like the other Citadel species, his would be beating madly now.

He was carefully negotiating a quick deal with a random independent mercenary group. Of course they did not have a Citadel register for any sort of private defense enterprise, nor any recognition on Terminus as a major power.

But as experience demonstrates, upstarts are easy to hire after all; being in dire need for money and chances to prove themselves made people accept any kind of job, even underpaid ones. Quick business.

But this one did not turn like he expected. _At all._

First, the trip to Varchyanka was awful in every possible way. The pilot he hired for a quick drop and lift had bailed him out halfway through the deal, taking the full pay but abandoning him on the planet, not to mention the filthy starship. Thankfully he had an envirosuit, but he still had to clean any stains on it himself.

Second, the food and quarters on the base itself did not have distinctions of species or rank. The same hard bunks and the same heated meals for everybody.

And last, but definitely not least, while he was out in the hangar awaiting for his new ride outside of the planet, after brokering a particularly lucrative arms deal, the lights went out.

For some three seconds people shouted in indignation and surprise, and he stood there on the far left side of the hangar, away from most of the concentration of people, without knowing what had just occurred, trusting the power would be back soon.

Then, out of the fucking blue, shots erupted from up on the passageways down onto the workers and guards, his natural low-light vision enabled him to see things, _and record things,_ beyond what appeared to be a deadly rave party of crimson beams and tracers. He was behind crates, of course, no need to be noticed.

Two unfamiliar figures, with a head, two legs and arms, armed with unfamiliar weapons were on a mad onslaught against the mercenaries. Killing and blowing up people without any sort of discrimination, anyone was a potential target.

The one on the suspended passages constantly moved back and forth, left and right, even jumping from platform to platform with exceptionally accuracy and athletic prowess in Barven's opinion. Volus were not particularly fit species, but Barven surely was an aficionado of several galactic sports; he could spot skill when he saw. Especially when the one doing the jumping was in what looked like to be heavy armor, albeit unfamiliar.

Now, the one on the floor, it was versatile, and particularly cruel. It slashed throats, crushed airways, shot people to death, and had a habit of throwing grenades on flammable and volatile objects. Dancing between the technicians and mercenaries in perfect junction with its partner.

Efficiency and beauty, if one was into those things.

Now, after the shots stopped, and the lights were on. He could clearly replace the word unfamiliar with _alien_.

The two beings were reunited in the middle of the hangar, distant from him. Soldiers he assumed, black armor without any known citadel symbol, just a small silver figure on their chests and arms.

He filmed everything with his omni-tool, from their looking around, then to their alien language and surprisingly pleasant and jovial voices. Better than hear some grunting and other weird sounds when he turned off his translation implant willingly. After all, who wouldn't be curious to the alien's voices?

Then a deep shiver ran through his small spine when the one with the larger weapon removed its helmet. At first glance one would immediately associate them to Asari, but a second of looking revealed that they weren't Asari at all.

Strange skin tone, facial structure, and the lack of head fringes, which were replaced by something he assumed to be fur. Not to mention they were taller and larger generally. He wasn't a scientist, or anything related, but they were aliens most certainly. And his use of 'it' was probably wrong, since those were males if he could assume.

And more frightening of them all, they were equally advanced and armed spacefaring aliens.

Stopping the recording and laying still on the ground, he tried his best not to scream for his life and run in panic.

* * *

Kaidan took the less used service corridors after exiting the elevator to the detention area, carefully stalking his way towards the common cell holding their objectives. The only sounds were the near-silent inspiration and exhalation of his breather and of the vents above. Inside his helmet, however, the tone of his sensor system told him no-one was nearby. All mixing with his light footsteps.

The ventilation on the roof let off cold steam into the area, clouding the whole area on dense fog, forcing him to change from his beloved pistol towards the shotgun and to navigate the area through the uploaded map on his forearm display, courtesy of the Engineer's abrupt meddling with the system.

Before departing to their respective targets, Alonso made sure to sync their heartbeat sensor to the base diagram. " _Just in case_ ", as he said.

The harsh lighting and the fog caused his armor and fatigues to camouflage themselves in sterile white, matching the newfound environment.

Not long after adventuring himself through the place, he came across three blips on his display, patrolling closer and closer to his position through a nearby corridor.

Stopping still and unlocking his weapons with an inaudible click, he braced for the approaching confrontation. Purposely stomping hard on the metal floor to make noise, he made the blips came much faster at his position now.

Confident his enemies had some sort of heat-detecting sensor, Kaidan knew he had to take them out at the same time. By the time they made their turn, they would see his heat signature like a welding torch in a dark room.

The blips, the objectification the living beings ahead, turned hurriedly around the corner, and glanced for a brief moment a bright heat signature amidst the cold vapor through their infrared vision. Then, the heat filled their entire displays, and then, nothing at all.

Kaidan had pulled the trigger, pumping energy into the weapon's mechanisms. Firing a conical blast of microwaves ahead through the corridor. The waves turned the vapor in the air into water instantly, releasing a loud sound in the process, then impacted the mercenaries, penetrating their useless barriers. Flesh melted together with any plastic on them, blood boiled and splattered itself on their visors, painting them blue and red.

A contained mess of heated organic mass within sealed suits. The blips were no more.

The man rushed past the burning bodies and now forgone all pretenses of stealth, once the shotgun boom went off. Left and right he went, always checking his surroundings, noticing several blips converging on him and on a particular detention cell.

Whenever he turned or entered a new corridor, he would plant a M38A Grinder proximity mine, to deter any pursuer. A small 300g pack of C-8, causing a directed explosion of hundreds of durasteel shards, heat, and pressure; for heightened lethality on soft targets.

He ran for about a minute through the labyrinthine corridors without any signal of heartbeats; but many explosions resounded behind him, as he heard multiple foes falling on his traps. There wasn't any fog here, and his armor turned to black once again.

But then, he almost went face first into a metal door after making a particular sharp turn. Several blips suddenly appeared on the display, the thick walls impeded detecting them from further away.

" _Xavier, I need you to open the door to cell 67-A._ "

The answer came fast. " _Right away._ " The door swished open and Kaidan ran inside, shotgun in hand.

He instantly spotted several Asari sitting on the ground with binders on their hands and ankles. But directly ahead of him, a Turian if he recalled from the pictures, held the Matriarch restrained ahead of herself, he assumed, with a gun to her neck. Classical hostage situation.

She began shouting at him, with his translator working perfectly. "You're after her aren't you?! Drop your weapon or I blow her head off!"

Kaidan could understand her, not only the language, but her emotions as well. She probably was the chief, messing with the prisoners just for fun, when she probably heard the comms of her minions dying, suffocated some dozens of minutes before, and then the ones massacred at the hangar, and now, the ones falling for well-placed mines and bogged down on the corridors, unable to advance.

And she was panicked because someone, _Alonso,_ had cut all comms from her master channel.

And then, on top of it all, the presumed aliens showed up on her room. A black clad and armed figure, faceless, with a reflective black visor where it's face should be. With strange weapons and mannerisms.

She shouted again. "Drop your weapon, freak, or I swear I'll kill this bitch!" The hostages were frightened, together with the wise matriarch, pleading at him with wide eyes.

Any cone angle regulation in the shotgun to a focused beam configuration would startle her and make her shoot the woman, and if he shot now, both the Turian and the Asari would be no more.

He could only drop the weapon.

As soon as he did that, the Matriarch was thrown to the side, and the mercenary began to take aim on him with a smirk. But he was faster than some wide-eyed and underpaid Turian Army dropout.

He drew his M25 in the blink of an eye, and shot her own handgun from his hip, melting the mechanisms and destroying the weapon. The merc dropped the weapon from the instant transferred heat to her hand, crying out in pain.

Kaidan wasted no time, he holstered the weapon and darted ahead with the intent of subduing the mercenary.

The Turian female couldn't react fast enough while she clutched her almost burned hand as the black armored alien nearly jumped at her. She took a _hard_ punch to the gut, forcing all air out of her, while the alien immediately proceeded to lift her from the ground and smash her again on the ground like she weighted nothing at all.

Its knee went straight into her back, not to break her spine, but effectively pinning her to the ground, while it bound her hands with a strange orange material it produced from a pocket in its leg clothing.

She then couldn't sense anything else, as the unidentified alien knocked her out cold with the grip of its handgun.

Picking his shotgun back up and looking around to the visibly relieved aliens, he said through the commlink. " _Shepard, Alonso, mission accomplished._ "

* * *

Outside, the unsuspecting soldiers mounting machine guns and guarding the main entrance knew nothing of the carnage inside. The night air stung their hands, as the cold slowly seeped inside their fatigues and armor.

They knew nothing of why they were hired to hold those Asari for a given period of time and then release them somewhere else, but the contractor had been specific to not harm them. They too did not know that they were in harm's way, but then, in some minutes it wouldn't matter anymore.

Without warning, multiple explosions graced their positions as rockets flew onto them from the air. Then, the men in positions that were not outright wiped by the attack could heard the attacking craft doing a high flyby above, before another stream of rockets rained upon them systematically.

Then, alternating between autocannons and rockets, all who tried to man a surviving HMG were blasted away, together with the SAMs above, who were taken out for man-made analogs to shooting stars.

The massive blast door to the main hangar began to open, bringing out hope to those few surviving the attack. Only to be mercilessly cut down as lasers flew out of the weapons of emerging figures, eliminating all who defended the entrance from any outside threat.

Behind the two figures, a group of freed hostages ran with a helmeted Kaidan, who held an unconscious Turian on his shoulder, towards the exit.

Ahead, emerging out of the night, with their flaring red engines whining and swooshing leaves and grass on the ground, two Hammerheads begun to hover in front of the hangar, before landing vertically.

The backdoors opened, revealing Sgt. Werner and the two Asari, Mayrithia and Nyava, standing up. The trio immediately left the vehicle. Medical crewmen from the _Intruder_ quickly rushed to help all of the Asari inside the vehicles, while offering fresh water and other things, like nutrition bars and first aid, including removing their bindings.

Werner however, ignored the aliens and went to speak with his subordinates, wearing a rare and satisfied smile. "You boys surprise me every time. Look at you! Not a scratch, and the blood on your clothes isn't yours!"

Xavier quickly tried to minimize his feats. "Erm…thank you sir, but, they had poor systems, and poor security. It was nothing-"

Shepard cut in, patting the young soldier at the back. "You did great today, Xavier, _really_. Not a failure when invading their system, neither when taking out the system analysts, and an exceptional job down here with me."

" _That's true,_ " Kaidan said, while unceremoniously dropping his prisoner on the ground, before removing his own helmet. "We know you have not gone through a lot of the killing part of this job, but you're proving to be something more than a highly skilled engineer."

Smirking at Xavier's own grin of gratitude, Krüger turned to the alien on the ground, and asked. "So, Alenko, what do you have for us today?"

He answered. "Sub-par quality soldier, probably armed forces dropout. She held the matriarch hostage. I suspect she's the leader of this whole troupe." Looking at the corpses outside and inside, he completed. "What it used to be at least. She may hold information on the so called contractor that hired them for the kidnapping."

Getting back on the craft ramp, the older soldier said. "Good job, all of you. Now let's get out of this place, first round is on me!"

While the Sergeant went to check after the hostages after his last line, Alonso commented to his colleagues as they took seats on one of the gunships: "You know, it's sort of messed up that he will interrogate and very probably execute the mercenary chief after drinking with us."

Laughing together with Shepard, Kaidan retorted. "What was _really_ messed up were those 4 eyed women posters. What the fuck was that, dude…Do you think she will be executed or sent to a prison?"

"Spending years, or perhaps all your life, freezing on Port Meredith or melting in Fitzroy's Sands, or taking a shot to the head, I don't know what's worse." Shepard commented, while pulling up a cigarette from one his pouches, offering to his squad mates the unofficial and improvised first mission toast.

Just as Oracle begun to play one song through the radio and lift the gunship for a safe ride home.

* * *

If Barven wasn't completely paralyzed with fear and anxiety, his jaw would have dropped on the ground. By his home Irune, and the star Aru itself, those Asari hostages were with the aliens! This must be a rescue mission, of course! Somehow, he felt that what he witnessed here today was related to the recent sinister turn the Galaxy had taken these last months.

He was beyond surprised, he was afraid to the very innards of his body. But above all, he was insanely _rich_. He knew _someone_ who would pay an _obscene_ amount money for it. As their vehicles departed, he matured those thoughts in his entrepreneur head.

Now, it was just a matter of finding a yacht and beginning the first day of the rest of his life. That is, if the aliens did not decide that the base was to be blasted to smithereens, then, he would be insanely _dead_ instead.

* * *

 _Sol, Martian Shipyards_

 _Admiral_ Erwin Yardley was incredibly satisfied with his new assignment, and _promotion_. His old crew, plus additions, were doing their peacetime routines, few stood on the bridge, only those strictly needed worked down on the pits, analyzing their respective information.

The familiar constellations littered his viewports and cameras, all enhanced to the soft tune of his personal collection of songs playing in the background.

Many were in their quarters reading or using electronic devices, many were also working out in the fitness rooms or in the mess halls, either taking a quick snack with the closest colleagues or simply playing games; cards, darts, billiards, or even the classical chess.

Some just lounged on the hangar to peek at the stars far away, but well within their grasp. All eased their minds in one way or another,

He had taken his time during those months to spend some time with his family, tell his season adventure with aliens and first contacts, only to receive a letter from the High Command, telling him to be at Mars at a specified time _sharp_.

The promotion and the assignment weren't expected at all, but he was nonetheless grateful. He had just moved up in the paygrade after all!

The 2.5 km long newly built vessel was the epitome of naval power, the final denominator on ship-to-ship combat, belonging to the _Jupiter_ class of ships. The _AES Krishna_ was finished in less than 4 months, the top record yet for the Martian Shipyards.

The looks of a proper dreadnought did not change much from a battlecruiser, only exponentially bigger. But you should not judge a book by its cover.

Sheltered inside their hull, a single more powerful tachyon lance, replaced the two on the battlecruisers of "old". 30 Gamma Anti-Ship Lasers complemented 120 Anti-Ship Rail Artilleries turrets, totaling 240 800mm railcannons, split between the ship's sides; a true cone of death against anything and anyone.

On their hangar, an entire Naval Air Wing was hosted, twelve squadrons adding up to 144 F-88Cs 'Starflare' for self-defense.

All in all, Erwin felt that below God Himself, the Imperial Armed Forces were now the ultimate force in the Galaxy.

His fingers _itched_ to prove his assessment.

Moving up from his command chair, and towards the transparisteel viewport, his golden eyes fell on the fellow capitals, _AES Subjugator_ , _AES Viel-Esán,_ and _AES Orion,_ as they docked together with the rest of their cruisers and frigates _._

A chill went through his body. Only now it settled within him; he now commanded a fully-fledged Imperial Fleet.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you all liked it. The delay for the update was caused both by things happening IRL and the corruption of the original seventh chapter file. How ironic, a story whose summary explicitly deals with corruption gets one of it's chapters curropted beyond recovery point. I blame the faulty USB door.

So, I had to do this by scratch after writting some 5000 words or roughly that. Personally I think this one is better than the one I had done.

Feel free to leave a **review** or a **PM** about the story if you so desire. Feedback is _much appreciated_.

Finally, the song I had in my mind at the end, when Shep and his buddies get back on the shuttle is " _For What It's Worth – Buffalo Spring_ ". But of course, you can imagine or listen to anything you want to.


	8. Tying Knots

**A/N:** I don't remember whose reviewer was that said something about "all Asari see that one day" or something along those lines. But here you go, mate:

Just to clear it up: **No,** there isn't some sort of population wide conspiracy with Asari teaching their daughters their current standing in the Galaxy, she just exaggerated when she said that; mere figure of speech. But remember how in-canon Matriarchs are some sort of unofficial policy makers? So, you see, the Asari Republics is very alike to the Systems Alliance if you see it closely; a supranational organization whose member nation-states decide budget and policy and leaders (except there's a colonial senate for the S.A.)

You can imagine that the leaders of multiplanetary republican states (Republics as we know it either have a Consul or a Premier or a President) have more geo-political understanding than the average Asari dancing her way around in the Citadel or in Omega. One can effectively see the Asari Councilor as the sort of leader or president to the Republics as a whole, the interstellar face of the Asari. No indication whatsoever is given to how a councilor is officially chosen in the game as far as I remember, so I took liberties to imagine the leaders of the myriad of Asari republics assemble and choose one politician to represent them to the Galaxy.

I extend my gratitude to **Xabiar** , the one author beta-reading this story.

* * *

 _Royal Gardens, Imperial Palace_

A small clique walked amongst the now dry and leafless trees, as the cloudy sky occasionally poured centimeters and centimeters of snow on the ground below.

The small entourage was accompanied by the human-verisimilar servant droids present in public repartitions, royal palaces, reception booths and other commercial applications; cutting costs and eliminating degrading professions of old.

This select group of powerful individuals clad in winter clothing answered only to one: Emperor Ferdinand. Except for the two Senators and party leaders, all of them were under the direct scrutiny of the monarch.

Turning towards Ferdinand as he sat down on the bench, Supreme Admiral Alexandr finished his speech. "…The problem, Majesty, is that an occupation would without doubt put a strain on logistics."

Taking the cue, Supreme General Carlos continued. "Indeed, we _could_ actually secure a given number of worlds militarily, but given the culture of the alien subjects, the costs of a natural and conventional military occupation would be substantial; both in personnel and in materiel. We would also no doubt be responsible for the infrastructure of the conquered planets: Food, water, electricity, medical concerns…"

"Perhaps a hearts and minds campaign?" François interjected, while turning to the other man in the communion. "What do you say, Harper?"

"A way of _not_ painting ourselves as the aggressors?" He answered thoughtfully. "It would be hard. That is, with the given variables. It would require a presentation of ourselves to the Galactic community at large."

"Is such a thing even possible?" The leader of the Conservative Party, Maximillian, questioned.

"Well, _it is_." Harper stated. "It could even be perceived as positive for some of our intelligence gathering and proposed propaganda operations; as our agents would be free to move through enemy territory." He paused, lifting a finger. " _But,_ it would put a halt to any… _extreme_ …black operations conducted by the Intruder, it would be far too much of a political risk to take."

He crossed his legs and lighted a cigar before continuing. "However, the primary objective of the entire operation was already achieved with the first mission; we have proven to the Republics a willingness to collaborate and we achieved extensive technical data on their technology as with the ship as a technology demonstrator itself. Perhaps the greatest danger of a public appearance would be foreign intelligence infiltration, but nothing the FSB wouldn't be able to handle; humans don't have horns on their heads neither scales on their skin anyway."

Twirling his fingers on his beard, the Emperor took some time to considerate his options before continuing. "What do you all say to buffer states between us and them?"

Jack was the first to comment. "Not a bad idea. The problem would be leadership and loyalty of those new formed states."

"Loyalty from them towards us, that is not a problem as we would be the ones to 'liberate' them, so to speak." Maximillian pointed out, speaking with relative calm.

"No, not that." Harper accepted a cup of hot chocolate from a servant droid before elaborating. "I mean loyalty of their citizens towards the new governments. Given that the planets we're talking about belong to the Hierarchy, there would still be a deep ingrained nationalist zeal in the citizenry."

"Easily amended." François dismissed with a wave of his hand. "In a generation or two we can fabricate national identities bound to our ruling elite. Propaganda and education will be key."

"I'm not so sure François," Maximillian quickly retorted. "If we were to lose one of our planets, the occupiers would be given hell incarnate on earth."

"Then I trust the General's troops are well trained in counter-insurgency?" The Liberal Party leader pointedly asked the coated man.

"Of course." Came the nearly indignant response. "Insurgency and counter-insurgency is almost a constant in human military history. I'm more interested if my Generals will have to work with a human or non-human ruling class…Perhaps even Asari."

"That remains to be seen," Ferdinand declared. "Colonizing incentives and programs for occupied planets might be seen just as that; Colonization and Imperialism. On the other hand, local leadership may offer ground for alien collaboration accusations from loyal citizens."

"Well, they wouldn't be so incorrect in either case, would they?" Harper joked, laughing as he did so.

Joining him in his mirth, the other men laughed at the humorous suggestion. "No, I suppose not," Ferdinand answered between his chuckles. "We are truly at a crossroads, either choosing between the boot and the bayonet or a white dove and wheat bundle. How poetic…" He finished dryly.

"The burden of victory." Harper commented. "Speaking about burdens…the Commonwealth has just demanded no less than _ten_ alien worlds exclusively for their market and dominion."

"For the love of God…" Maximillian lamented, rubbing his eyes in despair.

François was quick to express his opinion. "We should have imperialized all of them when we had the chance! Capitalist _vultures_!"

"Calm now," Harper placated. "They're demanding Economical Exclusive Zones, they still pay heed to the Senate. And it is not like we can actually deny them. The Pact is binding, we may only decrease the number they demanded."

"That's just an excuse to plunder those worlds beyond all recognition and escape our regulations!" François continued furiously. "Soon those places will turn into a net of dystopia and crime, not to mention forbidden research. Like that station the Asari call Omega, on I-don't-care-where!"

"Onto illicit activities." Ferdinand began, taking the opportunity to change the subject and calm down the irate man. "There is quite the underworld for underhand practices and commerce in Citadel controlled space. What do you all think of establishing a foothold in such markets?"

"It could tarnish our image irreparably," Maximillian warned. "But I _can_ see where you come from. We could acquire _enormous_ power in the process. It must be done discreetly, however, we can even use human fronts, but no link to our central government must be made."

"Supported," François said. "I extend that not just to the illicit markets, but soon enough we will have to introduce our economy into the Galaxy. Controlling _all_ aspects of it is paramount to security and stability of our own interests. The Asari will learn that aligning their own interests to ours will be _most_ productive."

"Information, as well," Harper added. "If we wish to shape public perception of ourselves, we ultimately need non-human media sources to paint us in a good, if not neutral, light. Asari news outlets and prominent artistic figures can do that initially, but their individuals, not governments are too untrustworthy to rely on."

"You suggest on acquiring their media through financial means?" The Admiral inquired.

"Exactly, or even perhaps the most basic blackmail," Harper confirmed. "That way, our own propaganda will not be seen as it is; propaganda, but rather an apparent opinion their own elites share of us. Therefore the average citizen will be more susceptible to our influence."

"The Commonwealth will _love_ this." Ferdinand chuckled. "Arrogant as their companies are, the image of Human-Elysian pair will soon be in every clothing store ever opened and in all their alien-directed merchandising." The men agreed with the own snickers, before the regent continued. "The truth is, my friends, that we are entering a new age from which there is no coming back, we must think decades and centuries into the future to ensure the survival of the dream entrusted to our hands by our fathers and their own forefathers" He finished solemnly, receiving the nods of agreement as understanding of the men with him as they shared in the burden of command and public life; leading trillions onto the future their ancestors once dreamed.

"But enough of politics for today," he said with a hearty smile. "Which of you gentleman will accompany me on some nice shooting practice followed by good beverage and food?"

A round of cheers followed, as the heavily coated old men made their way back to the warmth of the indoors, ready to share in fine roasted meat and hot wine. One of the many afternoons spent by old friends, whose friendship was forced upon them by their lives, but nonetheless appreciated. After all, few understood the weight and consequences of the decisions they took together.

* * *

 _Republican - Krogan DMZ border_

A 150m long vessel currently drifted in the gentle pull of gravity, with a gigantic orbit in an equally large gas giant; green colored clouds with beige strands of massive gushes of winds swirled below in violent yet silent storms.

The _AES Intruder_ was not a specified warfighting vessel. Token weaponry when compared to _Fencer_ frigates, despite the far more advanced engines and stealth systems. It wasn't a dedicated prison ship either, but those did not exist beyond the Terminus war bands and the Batarian Navy.

However, better than large ships with countless holding cells, the Intruder was the one prison you can't see or know anything about. Perfect for the immediate lockup, or perhaps abduction of hinge-point individuals.

Antilia Laevidas was the inauguration prisoner of the 18-cell long corridor. Unlike black sites, POW camps, or the famous Hierarchy "Re-educational Citizen Internment" camps, the cells were not polluted by grime or bones, or even unlit altogether. Neither had she to dig a trench while singing "Die for the Cause" or "The Snow March" at gunpoint, back when she attempted defection.

A forced labor camp out in the opens of public administration, but who was to question the oh-so-powerful, and _respectable,_ Turian Hierarchy.

Her cell was tidy and clean, in a grey-white color supplanted by the lighting, the air perfectly breathable; a sealed metallic black door stood between her and temporary freedom, the same door from which came her food. Her bunk was nothing more than an average mattress and a pillow perfectly suspended, as if tailor made to match the metal block dimensions, from a relatively slim metal block that erupted from the wall; under them were sets of plain grey clothing.

She was also pretty sure that the walls were insulated, for she could not hear anyone.

Baths were taken in a small adjacent room opposite to the door's wall, something rarely seen during her serving years. It was a two minutes long wide jet of cold water and odorless soap rained on her body during the cleaning sessions, the floor would then glow red and the water would be slowly dried of her body. Other bodily necessities were to be done at the device in the very same room.

Another difference was the notion of 'entertainment', or perhaps indoctrination, employed in her cell. A small table with two _books,_ something rarely seen outside of traditional Turian Reihai temples and non-existent in the wider Citadel space; one with a red cover with a white circle on the center and a black geometric symbol on that circle, and other with a black cover and another geometric symbol on it, however on this one the symbol was golden.

The terrifying part is that she could actually understand the words on them! After being abducted by the unknown black armored assailant, in her mind she woke up a mere day later from the confrontation and the eventual capture, or so she thought.

Only to notice she was not dead, but rather locked up once again, destitute of her omni-tool and clothes, and now understanding an entire new, _alien_ , language.

She currently sat on her bunk, anxious and doubtful. Anxious for the certain interrogation that was to come, and doubtful if she should even begin to read those books.

Suddenly, a harsh knock on the door released her from the long trance she was engaged while staring at the books.

"Finally _._ " She said to no one in particular as she attempted to ready her mind for the coming, and probably unpleasant, experience.

* * *

The room was dark; lit only by a single ceiling lighting panel, which was not enough to light the entire room properly without its brothers. She was escorted here by what she figured to be two guards holding her arms, and making sure she did not remove the blindfolds.

Her hands were free this time, and she very much enjoyed being able to move her wrists freely again. She could vaguely distinguish the cushioned walls on the room, stopping any sound to be heard from the outside.

She was sure somewhere on those walls there was a reflective window panel that allowed the aliens to see her with their own eyes.

How did she know they had eyes? One might ask. Simple, one was sited right in front of her. Skin not seen on any citadel species, facial structure vaguely resembling Asari but _not quite there_. Her heart beat wildly in her chest from anticipation and anxiousness.

Trimmed chestnut fur on the top of the head and penetrating blue irises, and dressed in impossibly black clothes. It read from a beige folder with several white paper sheets in them.

It began speaking to her in the alien language, the foreign voice sparking the primal fear of the unknown through her spine. "Antilia Laevidas. 34 years old, Hierarchy Armed Forces dropout while on the mid-stages of training and the disowned daughter of two C-Sec officers. _Former_ leader of a small mercenary band that operated by the name of ' _Lost and Damned_ ', in the Krogan Demilitarized Zone." Putting the beige dossier down on the table, and looking straight into her eyes, it asked. "Tell me, Miss Laevidas, what is you main life goal?"

She remained silent, staring at him, with hands moving to rest on her lap.

"None, then." _He_ , she assumed was the correct gender, intertwined his ten fingers with each other. "Your father disowned you after you publicly shamed your family name by deserting boot camp, and as your parents' only daughter, the disappointment you became to them destroyed your mother's health, and she died 2 years later; of _disgust_. The same irresponsibility that killed your parents killed your subordinates."

"Your words mean nothing." She slowly spat, unconsciously in his language.

"Is that so?" He allowed a cruel smile, before returning to his hard neutral gaze. "Who was the kidnapping contractor?"

"You're working with those blue whores aren't you?" She snarled, trying desperately to avoid the question. "One of you came and saved them; I read the news you freak, and I know what's going on, you people bombed Tuchanka!"

"Oh, you are completely knowledgeable of the situation at hand, then? Let me prove you wrong…" He leaned slightly forward on the table. "You deliberately accepted a job that included the _hijacking_ of a diplomatic Asari courier, kidnapping an Asari _matriarch_ and holding her _captive_ for nearly 24 hours. Not to mention the _brutal_ torture of non-essential crew. Do you realize how much you _fucked up_?"

"I did not torture anyone!" She shouted, slamming her hand on the table. "I was only talking to them about why they were travelling through the DMZ! I was curious-"

' _Curiosity killed the cat._ ' Werner thought, before cutting her mid-sentence. "You really did not torture anyone? Our eyewitnesses, _and video_ , accounts are pretty accurate, even the other captured mercs deserted you earlier."

With a mocking tone, he continued. "You know, that is the problem with disloyal soldiers is that they are capable of selling you out for a meager 2000 credits. Your father would love to see it, don't you think? To see that his daughter had become a torturer and murderer. The best part would be your execution; the Citadel neither the Republics tolerate sentient right's violations."

She attempted to hide her shock and disbelief. "Your lies slip through your mouth as if it were a fountain, I _don't_ believe you. My men would die for me, the mere insinuation that they framed me is absurd. And I'm _not_ a torturer!"

"And they _died_ for you, be _sure_ of it. Their blood painted the walls and the floor. And it's interesting how you do not deny being a murderer, that's a new one." Allowing another malicious smile, he continued. "The true shame, is that many of those who survived did not cede to mere credits, they apparently were more afraid of the contractor than of you. Would you believe if you heard their screams? Their cries as they either froze or melted on their cells without thermal control, or deprived of sleep and food, driven into madness? We recorded all the sessions…"

He fixed her with that chilling smile. "We may even give you a tour to their cells, the problem is that you'd have to bypass the mutilated bodies. But you already have experience with that do you not?"

"You're a lying sun-snake, stop it! I am a mercenary trying to make her life when everyone seems against her." She was on the verge of throwing up with pent up anger and revolt, with mandibles clacking. "I am not like that! _I am not like them!_ I am not like them…" The first teardrops appeared as memories of her previous imprisonment resurged.

Her mouth opened and closed, without anything to speak, as she teemed with rage and shame at the figure in front of her, who not only tortured her comrades, but also threatened to damage her father too; not the first time she was blackmailed, but most probably, if there were any luck remaining in her, the last.

He had already lost so much, another disappointment would be crippling; he'd probably even kill himself to regain the honor that his daughter lost. And another indictment on her would mean death.

"Do not mistake yourself; I do not enjoy torturing your companions, or blackmailing people. But I need the information, Miss Laevidas." He began again. "I know how your life has been from birth till now. You've lost so much in already. And you almost lost your life itself, on the _Yari camp_."

"Don't pretend to understand me, _alien_." She spat with a nearly broken voice.

"I _do_ understand you very well Antilia." He said empathetically, and continued. "You once again, fear that if you disobey someone's orders or wishes, it will get you killed. You fear the contractor will enact revenge to you, _or your father_ , if they are caught red-handed. You fear that we will blackmail you, and that you will be delivered and trialed as a war criminal or a terrorist by the Citadel or the Republics, or even the Hierarchy, thus ending in your death and the certain suicide of your father."

Many instants of absolute silence passed without her answering or saying anything.

"Once again, Antilia. Who hired your group for that job? Do the right thing at least once in your life…"

"Do I have any guarantee that I will be protected? I don't even know who you are…" She timidly and hopefully asked, after infinite minutes of silence, after his initial offer.

' _Once again trying to cover her ass…_ ' He thought before assuring her. "You currently are on the safest place within Citadel Space right now." Werner promised. "And regarding _us_ , let's just say that we're the Vanguard."

"Fine…I'll do it. Probability is that they would kill us all later, anyway." She clicked her talons on the metal table before continuing. "Some time ago, not even a month, our Salarian chief systems analyst, Filan, told me that one insanely encrypted message had just arrived. Some old acquaintance of him had landed an excellent job with some shady people, and according to him he wanted to give Filan a lift in life. The content of the message were about a kidnapping job, 200k credits before, and another 200k when we finished it. It was too good to pass up."

"We cannot even afford to use and Eezo reactor, and no one there knew pyjack shit about mining, so we had to buy nuclear fuel for the old fission reactor; and we had salaries to pay, supplies to buy, not to mention weapons and spare parts for our ships, and their fuel itself; we _couldn't_ let that job go by, guess I don't have to worry about that anymore, huh?" She snorted, while cleaning her tears.

"So I arranged a meeting with his friend and one of his employers for the job. They were two Salarians, and it was at our main base as customary. They came unarmed and with casual clothing…" She then went to describe the meeting as it was to the man before her, detail by detail as they were hired, conditions and payments, locations and given names.

The fear of facing the consequences of her actions was being slowly replaced by the hope to live another day, or even perhaps the rest of her life.

Later that day, when she returned to her cell, she finally picked up one of the books, reading it till the lights went out automatically. And even before she begun to read, she could notice the changes in treatment after her cooperation, _specific_ Turian skin products and aromatized soaps, not to mention the 20 min long shower of hot water and dental care tools which now were in her bathroom.

And last but not least, the cherished paper picture of her family and her when she was still fourteen years old, in a nice frame besides the book; the same picture she imagined to have lost while on the attack.

* * *

 _Kirunwe, Volus-Turian Colony, four days after Op. Safeguard._

Nyava piloted a popular model skycar through busy airways of Kirunwe, in the crowded mid-day hours, weaving past tourists taking taxi tours through the planets or even people going to and from work. They currently were in the planetary capital, the hub of Volus commerce inside

"What is this music? I've never heard it before, it makes you want to dance…" She said, only now paying attention that her fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the tune Mayrithia uploaded into their board computer.

"It's from a playlist Xavier shared with me," The Commando answered excitedly. "It's incredible, Spectre! Their artistic inclination is as strong as ours. For example, this one is was made in 1970 in the human calendar."

"Goddess, that's old! Well, besides the Quarians, we had yet to find anyone who gave a fuck about art in the Galaxy. And Turian art doesn't counts." She laughed. "Have you prepared the explosives?"

"Yes," she answered. "300 Kg of Zemvem-5 in the remote controlled skycar to crash at target A and eight demolition charges to topple target B, double checked them yesterday. Mechs will be delivered by the trucks soon after detonation. I've recalculated our estimates, roughly 300 people in the immediate blast kill-zone, as we planned, the car will detonate in a conference room, ERCS and Armax CEOs will be there and a Kwunu Holdings high level banker too."

Accessing some files on her omni-tool, she continued the rundown. "The police will rush to the area together with emergency services in approximately 5 minutes; immediately after their arrival, LOKI droids rush into the area and take advantage of the mess to wipe any resistance together with the two YMIR Mechs, while we snipe civilians for mass panic, from building C. In another 5 minutes the Army will arrive at the scene, vehicles and all. That's when we set off the second bomb and leave the area."

Looking towards the younger Asari, Nyava asked. "This will be your first solo operation right?"

"Well, Operation Debut was my actual fire baptism." Mayrithia sheepishly answered. "But if you mean my first solo mission with another Asari operative, then yes. All my assignments until then were as Dr. T'relis personal bodyguard. We did not do nothing too dangerous until First Contact, mostly surveying uncharted worlds and systems…"

Smirking, Nyava pursued the subject. "For your first mission, that was impressive, Mayrithia. Especially how you handled the HMG." Turning serious again, she said. "Look, all I need to know is that you won't get all sick at shooting at civilians and fall into a guilt trap in the middle of the firefight."

"No, I won't," The Commando answered quickly. "The Matriarchs and the Councilor count on me, so I can't jeopardize my career and the Republics by not following my orders. Whatever they may be."

"Good, I've seen many Commandos jam, so to speak, when faced with moral ambiguous tasks such as these. They were excellent at most forms of combat, but when the next step had to be taken, they refused." Snorting, she added. "Hell, back when _I_ was in Commando Training, our graduation test was to kill a fully armed Krogan _Battlemaster_ , one-on-one. But of course, there were more of them lying around then."

Minutes went past before they quietly parked their skycar in an alley nearby the skyscrapers and behind a building still in construction. The quickly exited the vehicle and dashed ahead towards their positions.

"The humans wanted to send in some CT6 soldiers with us…" Mayrithia suddenly commented as they climbed.

"CT6? Who the hell are those now? They even have two branches for ground forces and two intelligence services…" Nyava questioned.

"Category 6. Dishonorably discharged soldiers or court martial convicts who served their time. Or as the humans call them ' _Professional Insurgents_ '. It isn't a mercenary group per se, but rather a paramilitary one."

"They'll have plenty of opportunity for using them in the coming years, I think..." Mayrithia added.

Nyava rolled her eyes. "Yeah, opportunity," she commented. "Something I don't have to make an extra credit of today. At least working with the humans gives us extra…"

With that, they arrived at the area. The wind could barely placate the heat of the summer. Two long packages stood there along with a pair of jetpacks and mobile consoles. The Asari then rushed into their positions and awaited for their target's arrival.

Reaching for two large fabrics into the packages, Mayrithia offered one of them to the Spectre. "Here, take these, the sun is too strong up here, and it helps with anonymity. I'll help you with wrapping them."

"What are those for?" Nyava said with confusion, as she eyed the towels.

"These are shemaghs, if I said correctly. It is a traditional human clothing piece, they use it for many things beyond clothing, however, and it is standard issue for their military."

Allowing the younger soldier to wrap the cloth around her head and face she joked. "Humanophile might be a new word in the future; you're really getting into their culture." Noticing the distinct cooling and protection from the wind and dust the fabric gave to her, she conceded. "But they seem useful enough."

* * *

The traffic, even at 3pm local time, did not lighten in one bit. Airways were in constant flow, together with those that preferred the maglev cars on the ground, or even the trains. High class cafés on the ground served both levo and dextro drinks and appetizers for those looking for a quick break from work, or even just passing by.

Asari and Turian females strolled around with their shopping bags as they came to and from the many shopping plazas in the massive capital, followed by their husbands, parents and children came from the many residential areas and even the quieter and greener suburb to take their kids for a day out, in amusement parks, to watch a longvid.

A common cosmopolitan scene across Citadel Space and even Imperial Space too, the difference being in customs, products, and of course, demographics.

A black skycar with windows heavily covered in insulfilm, orderly followed his peers through the air avenue. Suddenly, the car lifted from the directed flow of vehicles, and begun to speed forward, taking many other skycars from their courses, causing the occasional crash or two.

The passing police car instantly turned its sirens on and begun pursuit of the offending vehicle, in hopes of forcing the driver to land. Had they known that said car was being remotely controlled, the situation would have played much differently.

No madman was at the driving seat.

The chase went on with the police car, joined by many others, closed meter by meter on the black flyer, which gained more and more speed as it approached a particular building. Frantic communication polluted the police channels as they attempted to get sightings of who was the stray driver or what his intent was.

Out of the blue it changed its course from along the other skycars and rammed straight into the Kirunwe Stock Exchange building.

Kirunwe wasn't only the planet with largest Volus concentrations outside of Irune, but also the very rival to Illium on the concentration of capital and financial interests.

Home of the Volus stock exchange, it was also the very home of Citadel Credit speculation, where nation shattering or forming deals were made, or more precisely, where the two biggest Turian weapons manufacturers were meeting together with elite bankers and high patent generals on the future of the Hierarchy and its contracts.

Their room was pristine, full of the best drinks and foodstuffs, carpets of Asari-made quality, wooden chairs and tables straight from Sur'Kesh itself.

It was now entirely and utterly ruined, together with two levels up and down from theirs. A 1.0 ton skycar carrying 300 kilograms of Zemvem-5, a highly incendiary explosive, just dashed inside their conference room and blew up its payload upon the collision.

Needless to say, no one survived.

* * *

Mayrithia and Nyava looked through their scopes at the arriving firefighters, civilians avoiding the falling debris as the building began to catch fire in the upper levels and the smoke rising high in sky. Sirens resounded across the streets as more and more units arrived to secure the building's base.

Then, four cargo trucks parked on the main plaza, near the base of the flaming construction and beyond the security perimeter delimited by the police force. They were readily intercepted and surrounded by shouting officers, who kept ordering the drivers to immediately leave their vehicles.

The populace gathered even more away from their workstations and into the street crowding the outside of the police perimeter, all trying to get a glimpse of both the view and perhaps an understanding of the situation.

Instead of the drivers leaving, something else sprung from the second and fourth trucks; two YMIR Mechs used their mechanical legs to tear the trucks' roofs, and thus wrecking their suspension, jumping and landing on the middle of the plaza.

As they landed, they turned their backs to each other and began their onslaught. Their twin arm-mounted HMGs spat fire at unprecedented rates, swiveling left and right. Pistol and SMG armed policemen together with the few firefighters who were armed returned fire while calling for backup, or the Army, while behind their covers.

The civilians were of course caught in the crossfire, many falling to direct sweeps by the Mechs, others dying by the huge crowd stepping on them while on the flight from the unexpected battle. And then as if those hazards weren't enough, some were just bisected by loud thunders who came from nowhere and everywhere, others had their chests exploded in showers of blood.

"These rifles are goddamn spinal cannons, and without recoil!" Mayrithia exclaimed as she fired her M212.

"I'm beginning to like this whole laser stuff better than slugs…" Nyava answered with a smirk of her own, and continued to order the Commando. "Focus on the civilians and I'll deal with the police snipers."

And so she did, innocent after innocent begun to fall, adding to the already catastrophic panic caused by the bombing. On her part, Nyava was quick to dispatch the snipers who attempted to take effective shots at the huge droids on the plaza, who kept their companions pinned down.

Those who had ran to intercept the tucks and arrest any possible driver were quickly cut down by the YMIRs, as they had nowhere to defend themselves in the open space. As the firefight progressed, the side door to the first and third truck opened and droid after droid poured in the urban battlefield.

The platoon sized force of LOKI Mechs rushed the pinned down policemen and methodically eliminated them by the dozens. Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide, with enemies coming from both their backs and their fronts.

But the Turians did not die without causing damage either, they were retired Army officers, willing to serve for some time longer before finally retiring for good. A third of the LOKI Mechs lay in ruin after the combat, and one YMIR with a severely damaged arm, which was promptly jettisoned.

What followed was a bloodbath inside the stock exchange building and outside, as together with the two unseen Asari snipers, the YMIRs opened fire on fleeing civilians.

Inside, there was no help to the panicked victims of the bombing. Executives, secretaries, stock brokers, simple workmen and women; all gunned down by the waves of LOKIs. Outside, there was only terror and gratuitous violence as the two massive Mechs opened heavy machinegun fire on a disarmed crowd.

The streets at the large and surroundings soon were devoid of all life. Numerous civilians lay upon themselves as blood flowed through the sidewalks and the streets, policemen and firefighters sprawled on the plaza still clutching their weapons, in their last sacrifice for the Hierarchy.

Their snipers rested with their guns silenced, heads missing and chests open.

The only sound echoing through the streets were the slow humming of the two YMIRs and the distant whine of Eezo-powered engines.

* * *

Eight C77s sped through the empty avenues of downtown Meria in the wake of the attack. Six-wheeled and all-terrain, with a mass accelerator anti-vehicle cannon at the top with a co-axial HMG; carrying 8 troopers and two crewmen, a driver and a gunner. It had barriers strong enough to be all but impregnable to small arms fire.

The Infantry Fighting Vehicle was the state-of-the art of Armax troop carriers line. Backbone of the Turian Hierarchy Army, and by consequence exported widely to anyone with enough credits to buy it.

The vehicles arrived at the scene guns blazing; a first salvo of all vehicles was quick to lower the shields of their targets, as the Mechs returned fire with their own machine guns, before realizing it was futile and switching to missile fire from their shoulder pods.

The HE missiles were excellent at eliminating clusters of infantry and breaching walls, but unsuited for vehicle combat, especially well-shielded and agile vehicles like the C77.

After the first salvo, it was quick work for the IFVs to clean the plaza of synthetic resistance. Some cannon shots ricocheted at the Mechs armor, hitting at odd angles and not penetrating outright, but being deflected to the other buildings of the plaza, thus adding to the destruction of the terrorist attack.

Eventually however, the great majority shots penetrated and destroyed the two Mechs, who exploded in a big shower of sparks, molten metal, and fire.

Ending the long range duel, the IFVs adventured into the place, instantly setting up a perimeter as the two Hierarchy Army platoons dismounted and entered the building to clear out any LOKI Mechs remaining or to rescue any civilians, in the unlikely possibility that anyone survived.

Mayrithia and Nyava had long departed the place, leaving the complicated part for the droids and Turian soldiers. All that was left to do now was to press a second button.

As the two Asari sped through the sewers and Nyava activated the detonator, the luxury Hotel besides the smoking stock exchange building suddenly suffered a coordinated explosion. Several demolition charges of C-8 went off in the edifice foundation. Metal was melted and brick vaporized as columns and structures were no more.

The building slowly but surely began to topple away from the stock exchange and into several office buildings and other commerce locations, effectively blocking an entire avenue with its massive body as it fell.

The skyscraper plummeted into the ground like a defeated giant of old myths, and destroyed everything on its wake. Any civilian careless or unlucky enough to be in those smaller buildings were squashed down as the collapsing construction took their own buildings with it on its way down, much like series of 500m tall dominoes.

In the end, the only figures alive at the plaza were the soldiers sent there to put an end to the situation. And as is predicted, _and planned_ , catastrophic damage generates a catastrophic reaction.

* * *

 _Varchyanka, three days prior to the Kirunwe Bombings._

"My Dalatrass," The red skinned operative begun to speak to the cameraman as they walked through the charred field, but speaking instead to the holographic image of his Matriarch displayed on the side. "As your Highness can see, the mercenaries outside were completely annihilated by heavy weapons fire, namely rockets and autocannons."

The landscape was different now, the harsh sun of midday illuminated the compound, and scavenging Varren were shot off as they attempted to eat the bodies lying in the field; the black of darkness and twinkle of starlight, which then was coupled with tracers, explosions and red lasers now gave place to the vivid colors of the jungle. The greens and yellows of the leaves together with the whites and browns of the trunks, and the kaleidoscopic and colorful flowers whose petals flew with the wind.

"Our teams are inside attempting to recover any equipment pertaining to the perpetrators of the rescue mission, but we are so far unsuccessful and I fear we may be ultimately unable to recover anything valuable. Our planted agent has perished in the attack too, unfortunately."

Moving inside the complex, he continued. "Inside, the wounds are consistent with the ones found on Tuchanka; laser fire has altered bodily water composition triggering catastrophic reactions with greatly stopping power and burning force, subjects who did not suffer directed energy fire were victim to a plethora of other wounds." Pointing at several of them and explaining the damage inflicted, he said. "Some have wounds consistent with fragmentation grenades, some were vaporized or burned completely, some have broken necks and skulls, and others have slit throats and multiple stab wounds. Many have laser wounds of diminished intensity, denoting perhaps variants of the same weapon."

Pointing to a handcuffed and scared Volus, he continued. "We have captured, last night, this Volus attempting to escape through a small FTL-capable shuttle. Were he more competent in piloting, we wouldn't have caught him, as he stumbled all over the flight protocols and controls and complained why his craft wouldn't start up."

Tapping twice in his own head, he went on. "He also has valuable data implanted into his head, unfortunately it is protected by advanced mind-defense software, if we attempt to remove the data he recorded without his explicit consent the data is lost and he dies."

"I'm willing to sell the data, Sur'Kesh-clan!" The Volus shouted in the distance.

"Silence! Unworthy creature!" He dismissed the shouting individual, before turning back to his monarch. "Down below, many were suffocated, probably a digital invasion to cut ventilation. On the cells, the majority was in shambles or heavily shredded by crystalline shrapnel. However three of them were nothing but paste inside their suits; the alien mastery of energy based weapons is astonishing. Unfortunately, my Dalatrass, the leader of the mercenary band is gone."

" _Well done, Captain. Dispose of all bodies there, then destroy the base. And bring this Volus to_ me _._ " The hologram ordered before flickering away.

* * *

 _Kel'Shan, Throne Room_

"I have done it again, my daughter!" Nizen said rising from her throne, and immediately snatching a drink from a serf's tray.

"What exactly are we toasting to, Mother?"

"Victory!" She raised the cup and touched it to her daughter's own drink. "We have finally destroyed the Vaerdall! Either the captured mercenary will reveal that her contractor is a Salarian, and then the aliens and the Asari will begin to join the dots, or we buy or even perhaps extract the data from the Volus and blackmail, or convince, them into helping us return to the leadership of the Union. In short, they'll either contact us or we them."

"In all possibilities, we win," she finished with satisfaction. "They will either ally themselves to us by necessity or by convenience. And then, once we're at the top of the Union, we can finally give them their so desired war with the Hierarchy."

A serf atented to her wish and filled her cup once more. "But first, let's cheer and drink and dance. The Third Salarian Civil War begins today! Tell the populace it's a holiday! Arrange a massive party, the most lavish and expensive food and drinks, spare no expenses!" With that the dignitaries at the cushions all toasted and cheered for their Dalatrass.

Later that night, as parties raged across the entire planet, be it day or night, Cinis asked her mother as they danced and drank. "You're not declaring war _really_ today _,_ rightmother?"

Laughing as she lost herself in the tune, she managed to answer her daughter. "Of course not, my moonflower! But effectively yes! With all the last happenings, we de facto are at war already!" Just as she finished another firework went off in the sky, exquisite and complicate colorful patterns exploding into the night sky.

* * *

 **A/N:** Pick whatever club playlist you like the most, now imagine an entire planet in a rave party.

In any way, I hope you all liked it. My thanks to all my readers for the continued support, and to all of you who have followed this story and favorited it.

Thank you, reviewers, past present and future. Reviews are the only way for me to know if you like the story, dislike, or to know your general opinion about it.


	9. Building Bridges

**A/N:** It's been somewhat of a long time. Lost two chapters to data corruption before fixing the issue. This one is definitely better, however, but you'll never truly know it, right?

Regardless, 8 thousand words or so brought to you. My thanks to **Xabiar** , for beta-reading this chapter in record time!

* * *

" _Dear Flavius,_

 _I am positively delighted to receive your e-mail! I honestly thought you had all but forgotten me for good. It brings me joy to be proved wrong!_

 _I had imagined that after First Contact with those women (despite their claims of being mono-gendered, I ha_ _ve two eyes, very good ones at that, I_ noticed _the way she looked at you…) you'd be posted as some sort of diplomatic envoy to their government, albeit in secret. And then I'd be nothing but a footnote on your memories._

 _My cheeks still burn and I still laugh every time I remember how you fooled us right under our noses! It did not even fly through my head that you were from the MID!_

 _Though the shame lies on me, I confess I should have known that you men wouldn't handle such a situation with a diplomat, it is simply not the_ _Imperial way._

 _You probably know that my bosses were relieved and reassured with your government, and your species in general, renewed compromise with the Pact. Your statements that day, even though not said by a true diplomat, were still considered as such. And you sang to our ears just what we wanted to hear_ _._

 _The masterful lobbying the Empress does in the Commonwealth may have helped to allay any grave fearful sentiment too._

 _Likewise, as you mentioned, these months after our little adventure have been boring, and I must also confess that I too miss your company…Our conversations during the contact were enlightening. Nonetheless, I've been promoted to Chief Diplomat in communion to your Senate._

 _On the other hand, the pictures you sent me placa_ _ted that. I c_ _an see you look wonderfully satisfied with your new assignments; which without doubt are classified to common women like me! But I do not mind, knowing you are well and happy, albeit restless as you mentioned. It is enough, for now._

 _I do not know how much access you have to Imperial media on wherever you are, or our own Commonwealth outlets (or even if you watch news at all), but the reception of…all of this…varies among society._

 _Of course, you men received news of first contact,_ oh so well; _rationalizing with…other heads…I suppose. We, ho_ _wever, have further doubts, economical, and marital (to a lesser extent now, as I mentioned; no self respecting Elysian would ever allow her husband to cast a second glance at an Asari.) regarding them._

 _The servant android manufacturers fear complete and utter bankruptcy once both societies acknowledge each other. After seeing how you gazed upon those whores, I can see why._

 _Knowing we, neither the latter human women, lowered ourselves to such outdated and degrading work positions, I'm sure they will replace the robots on them; due to the simply nature of being living and rational individuals, capable of true emotional responses and desires._

 _This includes even other consumer goods corporations that fear that the harmonic balance between our markets may be terribly upset with the introduction of foreign manufacturers and goods, but I trust your government will interfere to avoid such an unpleasant situation._

 _I hope we stand to profit off this si_ _tuation in some way. Perhaps selling my stocks at Ariavell Robotics might be a sensible decision in the future?_ _Our own goods might become novelty in their space, who knows? I better make an appointment with my financial adviser, she's a literal genius!_

 _Onto less serious matters: I am delighted to know that you appreciate Elysian cuisine, and I will be overjoyed to show my own skills to you when you_ do _visit me!_

 _Finally, while you are abroad, stay safe and be careful, Mr. Spy; I'd_ hate _to see you in a bio-treatment tank for weeks, or months even. Be well!_

 _Yours truly, Ayda._ "

* * *

 _Illium, Arisme's apartment_

The rain poured outside through the night, thunder crackled as nature unleashed renewing life and fury on the jungle made of stone. An Asari and a Human sat in the living room, enjoying a fine Thessian 18-year wine and a fine conversation.

After the news, soap-operas, and the ordered dinner, both had settled down to relax.

"So, that accord, what are the other clauses you did not mention?" Arisme questioned, while sipping on the refined drink, dressed comfortably for the night.

Flavius shifted on the couch, hair still slightly wet from his bath, facing Arisme completely. "Well, sexual relationships are treated differently in the Empire and by the Commonwealth than here, in Council Space," he began, pausing briefly before continuing. "Elysian evolutionary paths have led them to have a single partner for life for both sexes, ensuring that the offspring develops in the best of familiar conditions. It is hard-coded, so to speak, in their genes and sub-conscious."

She refilled her glass, her face unconsciously tightening. "But…you are different, _right_?"

"Yes, humans never developed such a characteristic," He answered with a nod, and Arisme's face could not help but to relax as he continued. "As such, the first, huh… _intercourse_ …between a man and a woman effectively seals a marriage. Both biochemically, to her, and _legally_ , to the man; that would only become effective after the events at the end of the Great Interstellar War, of course…"

"Wait," she interrupted incredulously. "You are _forced_ into marriage? _By_ _law_?!"

"Yes," he answered casually. "To not do so would put the woman at a glaring emotional, economical, and social disadvantage. If a man refuses, the woman goes to the police, a medical exam is made proving the union, and then the man is apprehended and forced to sign the papers." Smirking he added. "We call it a _thigh lock_."

"Fascinating," Arisme muttered. "It is very… _authoritarian,_ of you. I mean, sex is the most intimate thing an individual does…Most Asari governments have little say on how we lead our lives beyond the legal aspects of it."

"That is _exactly_ why we _, as a people_ and not only as a government, do not treat Human-Elysian relationships casually," the man defended, smiling gently. "It is indeed the most intimate act, and can hold serious consequences in our case. For Citadel species, sex might be…casual; informal relationships, quick unions, including, uh… _other_ _practices…._ that I have come to learn of while surfing on the Extranet, may be normal and accepted, and the consequences minimal _."_

Arisme couldn't help but blush as her mind ran through supposed practices. "But to us, it isn't _simply_ a moral stance," he continued. "But a biological _imperative_ to the maintenance of a healthy society, and therefore, our continued existence."

He chuckled, remembering something with mirth in his voice. "My grandfather was an example. He did not want to marry my grandma, but they had slept together after getting insanely drunk and high; he had no choice, _except,_ to conform to the consequences of his actions and attempt to find happiness eventually. He also got a nice monetary compensation due to the situation."

She sipped the wine more, staring intently at him. "That was the only thing that the biological agent altered? I mean, only the way your society organized itself?"

" _No_ ," he refilled his own glass this time. "Humans did not possess the same physical or bone strength we do now, neither the same cardio capabilities. Elysians were not as _smart_ as they are now. And of course, we both used to have another gender, live ones at least…"

Comfortable silence followed between host and guest that was only broken by the raindrops on the sealed windows or by the occasional thunder.

"That thing," Arisme finally said. "Project, actually, you mentioned before, the _New Aryan Century_. What was it specifically?"

"After our victory in World War Three, we established eugenic measures with our understanding of genetics at the time. Undesirable traits were edited off and we standardized genes across the population. Countless hereditary diseases and defects were eliminated…" he explained while sipping his drink. "Fertility was severely increased, among other things, such as immunity to several diseases and physical fitness; which was added upon with the Gift. For example, we standardized height; you'll never see a human shorter than 1.80m or taller than 1.90m, even if they were born on varying gravity levels. The Commonwealth corporations had their own population-wide eugenic project before contact with us too."

He took a pause to drink more before continuing. "But it wasn't only a eugenic project, but rather…uh…the _repairing_ of the merged nations. We had achieved another post-scarcity level. Advanced metals or electronics did not require the same amount of capital to produce, and we switched from petroleum to effective fusion as our main power source at the time. What were luxury items during the 20th and beginning of the 21st century became, in the latter years of the 21st century and onward, affordable to _all_. Of course, production cost was reduced, but artificially attributed prices still have a say, especially on Elysian made goods, not different from your own industry that values Asari-produced goods more than others."

"It _may_ sound Utopian," he conceded after a pause. "But even _your_ societies breached such levels, you simply exchanged one scarcity for another; and life quality rises as a consequence."

He wasted no time in changing the subject. "But…onto another topic, those things are way into the past; what did you think about Kirunwe?"

Sighing, she began to answer. "It was… _hard_ to watch. But, while disliking the number of casualties, I can understand your methods. Hell, if people doubted the Hierarchy _after_ Tuchanka, they do even _more_ now. The Internal Affairs Division is discredited as ever, and even the STG is being blamed for letting it happen!"

He smirked. "I wrote the same thing in my report, things are picking up speed. I wouldn't be surprised if the Hierarchy grew a spine and enacted a silent revenge. Which would be _incredibly_ beneficial to us…"

The man moved to stare into the raging lightning outside, standing next to the window. He observed that, despite the downpour, Illium's night life did not stop. Some nightclubs and parties could be seen on other buildings and on the street level skycars flew with the same intensity as if it were rush hour.

Silence settled as the man leaned on the glass, with the drink all but forgotten in his hand.

"Do you like it?"

"What, rain? Yes-"

" _No_ ," the Asari interrupted. "Your government, your job."

He turned to the woman on the sofa, and shot a counter-question. "Why would I not?"

"Well, it seems…authoritarian, is isn't democratic enough, at least in _my_ opinion. Your citizens do not get to choose the ultimate leader. Only the legislative representatives; and even then it is only a portion!"

"And that is _wrong_?" He raised an eyebrow. "Arisme, _no one_ truly cares about that. People just don't want to be stepped on, exploited, and impoverished. At the end of the day, the average man doesn't cares who rules; he cares if he's got a job to sustain roof over his family's head; if they have food, clothing, heating; if his kids go to school and if they will have a job or if they can go to a college when they're out of it. He's worried about his healthcare, if it will cover all possible expenses if he gets sick; he's worried if he's going to get mugged or killed while out on the street."

"I'm not here to proselytize, nor to flaunt arrogance. We are not perfect, nothing is. But we are darn good to achieve what we propose to do; provide a dignified life for all, both the common man and the leadership. We do not promise a paradise, we do not offer any sort of Utopia, we merely care for our own; that is, the state sole's goal for existence is serving the people, because it is essentially born out of this people; if it does not do that, then it is useless and must be _destroyed_."

"I…can understand your point, and _respect_ your sentiments," She defused, negating a possible confrontation. "You know, that's why I was delighted to have made first contact with you. You aren't hell-bent on destruction of all others, you aren't unreasonable; you are, perhaps, even dare I say _tolerant_." She smiled softly.

She was answered with a small laugh and a carefree smile, as the man's attention returned to the storm, and to the drink. " _About my job,"_ he continued. "I'm just good at what I do. Not _all_ threats demand an army to be dealt with…"

' _And_ o _thers…a conversation is more than enough…_ 'He silently thought.

After minutes of silence, she broke it. "So…why did you ally with them in the first place? Before the War and all that…"

"Because they looked like us," he flashed a smirk back to her, before continuing. "They couldn't really defend themselves if their companies wished to. Too much backstabbing, conflict of interests and ideologies; that was a role we decided to assume; commerce with them was profitable too. And, despite the highs and lows, it is a relationship that has brought great fruits to both peoples."

* * *

 _Palaven, Armed Forces High Command_

ThePrimarch of Palaven, Cnater, sat on the conference table's end, with his face obscured by the harsh sun coming through the window behind him.

On the other seats were his leaders; Primarchs, Generals and Admirals, all arguing in a cacophony of insults and blame shifting. Rationalizing what escaped all of their efforts.

 _"Of course_ it is your fault! You are _Chief General_ of the IAD! That is your spirits-damned _job_!" Admiral Sitina Stranis, practically snarled at the man in front of her.

Not long after that came the indignant response, with Chief General Kosei Sato slamming his talons on the table. "As if! What were your fleets doing while their ship penetrated the DMZ _and_ slipped past two dreadnoughts and their escorts? That initial fiasco only emboldened them! We had _no_ leads, you had them in your _face_!"

" _Silence!_ " Cnater shouted, effectively placating the storm raging in the room.

He clicked the talons at the end of his fingers on the table as if considering the next words and actions.

"The loss of Octalius and Sitius was…catastrophic…the continuity project was essential to the Hierarchy. As were the CEO's of Armax and ERCS. But soldiers and executives are easily replaced; and their project was already completed anyway," he leaned forward, exposing his face while rising from his seat. "Our reputation, however, takes more effort to repair. The third generation of Cabalites are ready and acclimated with the modifications. The Batarian terms for co-operation with us were unreasonable and ridiculous, the Asari reap the economic benefits of our continued failure, with twelve trillion credits in only interest profit." He let the facts sink in.

"I'm officially enacting Emergency State 2." He stated coldly, eyeing every single authority on the room. "And I am extra-officially authorizing a retaliatory strike on the Salarian Union."

The room burst into applause and approving nods, only stopping when he raised his hand once again. "I expect multiple operations proposals on my desk by the end of the week. I will then evaluate and chose one, or several, to be executed. Dismissed!"

* * *

 _Kel'Shan, Throne Room_

"I believe it wasn't retaliatory, mother." Cinis commented as she and her mother re-watched the footage both official and unofficial from the Kirunwe Bombings. They were alone in the throne room, deep into the night, having courteously invited all dignitaries and nobles to leave. "Such a well-coordinated act can't be arranged in only four days. That discards the possibility of the aliens thinking the Hierarchy kidnapped the Matriarch."

"That is what I believe too, the Turians didn't even know she left Asari space…" Her mother commented. "And Erlana was furious after the attack, the saddest thing for her is that she still wants to make amends to the Turians. She probably thinks one of us did it."

With resolution on her voice, she continued. "Nonetheless, it has been four days. I won't wait any longer for them to contact us. Perhaps the aliens did not know enough about us for them to be led specifically to our clan. _I_ will contact the Republics."

"Another dangerous gamble, mother." The green complexioned Salarian commented.

"A proper Dalatrass cannot fear taking risks, Cinis." She rose, and activated her omni-tool, before saying to the device. "Prepare my diplomatic ship, dispose of the Volus, and download the Varchyanka footage onto the ship's data core. Ready two frigates at the spaceport too, they will escort us."

" _At once, my Dalatrass._ " The voice answered through the comm channel.

"Us?" Her daughter asked while puffing smoke from her pipe.

"Yes, _us_ ," she affirmed. "Consider this to be another important lesson. And besides, what kind of mother would I be if I did not allow you to live such a unique experience? You'll be working intensively with them once you are Dalatrass anyway…and don't pretend to disguise it, I _saw_ you eyeing them _up and down_ while we watched the Volus vids." She finished while exiting the room, heading for the royal chambers, leaving a stunned Cinis behind.

* * *

 _Junction between Complex Alpha and Complex Omega, Swiss Alps_

Buried deep below a mountain, with countless tons of hard rock and earth above them, was the Main Intelligence Directorate Headquarters. It was built on the mountain twin to the one that housed Complex Omega, HQ to the Federal Security Bureau.

One kilometer and a half below the ground level they were buried, both complexes were joint collections of labyrinthine corridors rooms and halls, with thousands of agents and officers working constantly, analyzing considerable amounts of intercepted data or interrogating suspects to varied crimes and producing equally huge quantities of information with reports on those sources.

Jack Harper was 'The Director'. _The Illusive Man;_ bearer of the fabled unofficial nickname and head of both agencies. Withstanding with the ancient tradition, near absolute power rested in the hands of the best of the best. And honoring the long line of Intelligence Directors behind him, Jack _was_ the best.

He stood with his son-in-law on the newly built annexed room to his office, both dressed in the usual suits, although Constantine didn't wear his jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up his arms.

The flatscreen populated walls of before gave place to simple gray virtual-reality projecting panels on the room; Jack smoked, instead of his beloved cigarettes, a proper cigar as both men stood over the QEC pod, awaiting the other speaker to step into their pod twin communicator.

The room was built with the courtesy of the directions one or two Asari engineers provided them.

"How much long is she going to take?" Constantine muttered, as his impatience began to overpower his self-control. "Jesus Christ, all you have to do is step on this damn thing!"

"A bit of punctuality wouldn't hurt," Jack commented, chuckling. "Indeed. It's twenty minutes already."

As if attending to their desires, the room slowly darkened. Soon enough, the panels lit up, projecting Irissa ahead of them and the room she sat on; a fine office with multiple decorative items on walls and stands. Her QEC was expertly crafted, not needing a pod to stand on.

"Hello, gentlemen. How are you two today?" The Asari began in a friendly tone.

"We are fine, thank you," Jack answered, without asking the reciprocate question. "We have interrogated the mercenary leader after the attack. Withstanding with the results of the attack on Kirunwe, and the interrogation report, we have concluded that the Hierarchy hasn't got a clue of our existence."

Beaming a satisfied smile, Irissa answered. "Perfect! So, can I disclose to the-"

"However," Constantine interrupted, instantly wiping the smile off the Asari's face. "The kidnapping of your matriarch wasn't a _stroke of bad luck,_ Irissa. It was _deliberate_."

"…Who?" Irissa barely whispered after a heavy pause.

Jack answered. "The mercenary disclosed that one of her Salarian subordinates had himself a contact with what she described as 'important and shady people'." He paused to let off a puff of smoke. "Those individuals, through the Salarian mercenary and his supposed contact, brokered for her group to kidnap the matriarch for a given period of time, and then after that period, they would deliver the hostages in a location that would be provided to the Salarian mercenary. We are led to believe these individuals are Special Tasks Group agents."

Irissa stood for some moments before reaching for a cup of water with a slightly shaking hand, gulping water together with what appeared to be two pills, and then returning to stare at them with a blank look.

The prince attempted at defusing the time-bomb. "Now, _before you freak out_ , this is manageable."

" _Manageable_?!" She screamed at him, making Constantine instantly grimace, remembering one or two arguments with Andromeda, while Jack instantly adopted an amused face. "How is this manageable in _any possible way_?!"

He attempted again at placating her, albeit slightly confrontational. " _Look_ , it is not on the Extranet _yet_ , from what our agents tell. That means they haven't got any concrete proof of alien, _our_ , interference; _or_ , that they are holding such information to make a deal. So far, we, and our governments' relationship, remain unknown." He paused, before continuing with a softer and reassuring tone. "Irissa, you cannot freak out now, of all times. We _can_ get the situation back under control."

" _Fine_ , you better be sure of it." She calmed down, controlling her breathing and regaining her composure after the small crack in her facade.

" _Now_ ," Jack spoke again, with his blue eyes boring into Irissa. "Do you have an idea of which one of all clans could be the one behind it? Or even if it is the Union as a whole? Because we _can_ discover that. But shooting blindly could give them the certainty they lacked, or we could even be after the _wrong_ target. And any deeper investigation would require our agents to be on the ground in Salarian territory, which is currently impossible."

Many minutes passed with the two man staring at Irissa, while she had a distant contemplative look, not even paying attention to the two of them.

"Haven't got all day…"

"I'm sorry…uh…" She rubbed her fingers on her forehead, as if easing a headache. "It's not the entire Union, if it were I'd be receiving reports of sabotage strikes and naval raids. The only ones that come into my mind right now are the Sesoln. The other clans are quite compliant with Dalatrass Erlana's wishes, and if any of them got wind of it, they would not withhold the information."

Suddenly, the voice of her secretary came through the comm channel, speaking from her personal computer. " _I'm sorry for interrupting Councilor, but Dalatrass Nizen and Princess Cinis have just invited you to a formal and private dinner on one of the Sesoln royalty summer estates. How should I respond?"_

Smirking, Jack whispered to Constantine. "Speaking of the devil…"

Irissa snapped at the secretary, turning her head at the off-image woman, away into another room. "How do you _think_ you should respond? _Accept it_!" Turning to her allies, she said, while rising from her seat. " _There_ , you have your answer. I'll have to try and see how much they know, and depending on that, negotiate ourselves out of this situation." Before cutting the connection, she quickly finished. "Expect word within two of your weeks or less from now."

And then, the projected image began to reverse to the previous featureless room, leaving the two men to ponder about the situation.

* * *

"What a _great_ way to execute our plans…being blackmailed." The sarcasm dripped from Constantine's voice as he sat in front of Jack's desk.

"Could have been worse," Jack replied while taking his own seat, with a bottle of scotch and two cups in hand. "The Salarians might be circumvented, the Hierarchy, however, would force our hand into military action, were they the ones to know about it."

" _Or_ , the Asari themselves could know what the Commonwealth plans to do with a handful of annexed worlds…"

Jack chuckled darkly and filled their cups while speaking. "Some things are…best left as surprises…though I think Irissa wouldn't really care…"

And so the day continued, with the cling of glasses and the burning of high quality tobacco. The hours passed, as free talk came and went between them, with the occasional intelligence report coming by; public opinion, military morale, production reports, and more importantly, the condensed reports from the thousands of agents being hosted on Asari space.

Detailed astrographical maps, their own personal assessments, extensive Extranet and Citadel-based public opinion reports and so on.

"So," Jack suddenly began after some moments of silence. "You haven't told me entirely about the little tumble you had with the Councilor…"

"It was… _different_." The Prince began awkwardly.

"You don't say?!" Jack interjected sarcastically.

That earned a laugh from the younger man. "Well, _more_ than different. It was also very familiar," he shifted in his seat. "I won't go into specifics, but she was quite _skilled_." That in turn earned a smirk from Jack. "Onto purely scientific observations, they are quite similar to the late human females, and by consequence to Elysian females; albeit with larger…measures…when compared to the latter. She asked if I wanted to merge our nervous systems, but I refused; she could pry info so I thought better."

"But what about Irissa herself…I mean…her psychological profile?"

Constantine took some moments to organize his thoughts, before answering. "She behaves in the same way she behaved now; things that are out of her control or predictions are discomforting sometimes make her snap, and she is _very_ demanding. For example, you had to see her face when I told her that our casual…encounter…was originally _Andromeda's_ idea; she eyed me like I had grown another set of arms!"

He continued, before Jack could comment. " _However_ , she has quite the problems herself; repeated attempts at emotional detachment and isolation during our conversations. Not _disinterest_ ," he quickly corrected. "But she attempted to build walls around herself when certain subjects, namely stable romantic relationships, were brought up."

He took a sip of the amber drink before continuing. "And at the same time, she demonstrated a subtle necessity for companionship; taking my shirt for good after we slept together on Mars, holding my arm when she noticed that other women did the gesture naturally at the Opera House, or taking one of my coats when we were in the Royal Gardens. Not to mention that the cameras in the hotel room showed me how…weird…she got after I walked out on her. _No tears or anything_ , but she became very contemplative."

"We…no… _you_ , need to exploit that," Jack immediately said. "She isn't precisely depressed, clinically at least I imagine, but she is _surely_ an unhappy and pent-up person. And in her position, and her society, _true_ friends are far in between. She is currently loyal to our alliance due to necessity and because we can frame her and her nations badly in case of betrayal."

"But," Constantine interrupted. "True loyalty, belief in our motives and genuine attachment to ourselves as a collective, would be preferable." He sat forward, as if realizing Jack's true intent. "And the easiest way for someone to sympathize with a group, whatever group it may be, is to first create an attachment with an individual belonging to that group. In other words…"

"I need you to seduce her." Jack completed, and then proceeded to immediately correct himself. "No…better, we need her to _fall in love_ with you; _that,_ would guarantee undisputed loyalty."

"You old, _cunning,_ fox! Asking me to tempt emotionally unstable women, and an ice-queen on top of that…I'm gonna feel _dirty_ after this!" The Prince joked, laughing and leaning back into the chair.

Jack gave a laugh of his own before speaking again. "A man has to do what a man has to do in order to succeed. Off topic, but; _Andromeda,_ is going to laugh at her expense once she catches word of it…she always loved this sort of soap opera cruelty…" He then continued, back into the original train of thought. "In any way, this is ultimately _their_ fault, for opening that relay in the first place…we just happened to be at the other side…"

"But now, we wait." He finished, puffing another cloud of smoke.

* * *

 _AES Intruder_

Mayrithia sat on her bunk, staring through the viewport of her personal quarters, outside, the orange plasma sled off the ship's Keller field as if she was in an underwater vessel. She was wrapped in her covers, having just returned from the shower she took after another sparring session with Shepard and Kaidan.

The ship had returned to the usual routine, scanning spaceports from afar, monitoring fleet movements and collecting intelligence reports from the many human infiltrated agents.

Today, it amounted to three victories she had, against five of their own on the sparring mat. They had made an agreement to allow the use of biotics on her part, soon after Kaidan realized that a single well applied use of their brute force would destroy whatever non-biotic defense she put up.

Had she been relying on purely physical strength like before, every time he stuck home would be her demise. She of course did not mention that he had nearly broken her arm the first match. She smiled, as she remembered the first time she put Shepard himself into a stasis field, as he gaped like a fish at the invisible lock.

But that did not matter, right now, as she contemplated what had occurred on Kirunwe.

Every occasional kid she spared from the massacre by not shooting, every civilian she blew the chest open by shooting, every policeman and executive the mechs mercilessly gunned down. Everyone who was buried as the Corvallis Grand Hotel toppled…all of them ran through her mind.

She was not loathing herself _hard_ , after all, she had killed mercenaries on Tuchanka without a second thought about their lives, she had helped the humans set off a nuclear device at the base of the Shroud and indirectly killing two billion Krogan in the following ballistic missile exchange; and effectively bidding their species farewell from existence.

But her mind couldn't help but to go into places she felt she wasn't supposed to. 'Could we have achieved the same objective without sacrificing innocents?'; 'Did they all _really_ need to die?'

The reflection was interrupted by the sound of door swishing open.

" _Hey_ …can I come in?" A brunet haired young human leaned on her door frame. He was clad in the usual ISF black uniform, as she come to learn to be, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The shining skull and bones accompanied the operatives clothing everywhere they went, pinned proudly on his lapel. On his chest, the rank, name, and blood type were displayed right above the chest pocket. The stripes on his shoulders denoted his rank too, she learned.

"Sure." She said, promptly encouraging the Xavier to take a seat, with a chair pulled from the small desk beside her bed. The door swished back, sealing the room from the crew quarters corridor.

"I never thought I'd feel a _physical_ keyboard in my life." She attempted, poorly, at normal conversation, while looking towards the personal computer.

"I can forward an article on them if you want. Some Elysian companies attempted to introduce haptic interfaces and holographic displays into the market," he looked at the desktop. "Turned out people did not like having to implant stuff on their fingers to use them, neither have everybody see what you're doing on your workstation effortlessly."

"I've always wondered the same thing. You cannot read personal things in public with your omni-tool, no privacy at all…" She then noticed the nearly shaved sides of the man's hair. "New haircut? Is that the right expression?"

"Yeah," He chuckled. "It is the right expression, and no, it is just the standard grooming for the Armed Forces. Special Forces are enabled more freedom with such regs; but I like it, reminds me of the Naval Academy." He then crossed his arms. "But I'm not here to talk about my _hair_. You seemed off when you were in the fitness room. Anything you want to share?"

"I've already talked to Nyava, _I'm ok_." She attempted to deflect the question.

"Like hell you are. Don't shut me out, already forgot I'm 'green' too?"

She seemed to reconsider. "I'm sorry, it's just that…" she sighed. "I'm not sure if all those people needed to die. I mean, I do not regret, it was my _duty_ with the Republics and the Councilor. But I can't help but wonder…"

"I wondered sometimes if I had to kill the people I killed, but after some _bad_ guilt trips, I realized I cannot afford to double guess _too much_ my actions, else I'd become a psychological casualty. All I try to do, is to act proportionately to the achievement of my objective. Your objective, damaging the Hierarchy's public face, would not be achieved without that. I won't go out of my way to cause collateral damage. But, if we _must_ cause _catastrophe_ , so be it…"

He trailed off, before continuing. I think if that attack hadn't achieved the high casualty number it did, it would have had the same effect; and thus, the operation would be a failure. We have chosen grim careers. That is something you have to accept. I did not hate any of those mercenaries we three had to kill to free the hostages; it was imperative that they were eliminated, and the data destroyed." He paused, as she digested the words. "Do you know what our motto is? Of the Imperial Special Forces, I mean?"

He answered, as she shook her head in negative. " _Any mission, any time, any place._ " He said with a smirk, a smirk that she could only place as patriotic, and perhaps even smug. "I try to live by the oath I took when I completed my training. But, you don't have to bear your own oath all alone." He smiled reassuringly. "The squad is here, Sergeant Werner is here, and you know you can always talk to me." He finished with that human greeting, closing his fist in her direction.

She returned the gesture, bumping his hand with her own. "Thank you, Xavier. _I mean it_."

"And, if you feel guilty about it. Don't feel guilty over feeling guilty itself," he chuckled while leaving for the door, before turning one last time with a jovial smile. "After all, grieving is part of _human nature…_ "

* * *

Nyava and Werner were both respectively the enacting Commanding and Executive Officers of the black stealth frigate, despite none of them being currently enlisted in the Imperial Navy. As such, they received their own very level for their personal quarters, apart from the rank and file, well up on the last level the elevator could go.

The Spectre, while having briefly served under the Asari Republics Navy, did not share of the same enthusiasm her sisters-in-arms did at the prospect of sharing quarters. Needless to say, despite Asari patience, she only lasted five-years, before being at the edge of madness at her companions and the general life inside the spacecraft.

Commando training was easier, by comparison, 30 long years of grueling studying and training, self-improvement and knowledge seeking. The individualistic culture was a bit more exacerbated by the fact that they got individual beds, despite sharing a bedroom with another trainee.

She remembered, or more accurately, daydreamed, even today, about the final test which crowned her a Commando; one among the few.

The yellow skinned and brown scaled Krogan shot everywhere, as she simply skipped from cover to cover avoiding the shotgun blasts with her biotic barriers and agility, dressed only in the Commando black jumpsuit. Two more jumps, and several shots later, and she had reached her Acolyte on the weapons rack, near the Arena's exit.

She dodged just in time to see a shotgun blast rip the now empty rack to fragments. She heard the Krogan's weapon overheat from the relentless assault, and then she knew her chance had arrived. Time slowed as she left one of the many concrete covers of the circular arena and rose, taking aim on the overgrown lizard in front of her.

She used her refined marksmanship to place several shots on the beast's chest, with her ammo eating through his barriers; he in no time adapted, forgetting his cooling firearm and sending warp explosions towards her, hoping to stop the attack.

And it did; the Asari rolled to the side, avoiding being thrown back by the biotic explosions. Only to see a charging and roaring Battlemaster rush towards her, ready to break her skull with his shotgun if necessary to survive.

In the manner only a Commando would react, she instinctively pulled a slim knife from her strapped arm pouch, and biotically threw at the gaping and enraged reptile.

The knife went clean through the air straight between his eyes, and almost pierced the skull. That gave precious seconds for Nyava, the hulking Battlemaster roared in pain and hesitated for a fleeting moment. She remembered as the muscular memory prompted her to draw her pistol again, and riddle his body with slugs.

She also remembered the applause as her now former instructors emerged out of the bullet proof observatories to graduate her. Good times that unfortunately wouldn't come back.

Sergeant Werner, on the other hand, did not mind in the slightest sharing quarters with his fellow trainees when on the Bureau or during college, or sleeping in less than standard quarters while infiltrated.

At his forties now, his hair denoted some gray strands already. He always shaved his beard and kept his haircut in the iconic military undercut; something many servicemen, either from the Marines or the Army, retained once joining the ISF; but something he opted for himself.

Both their quarters, the one belonging to the Spectre and Werner's were pretty much identical in layout:

Adjacent to the corridor, an office with a personal computer, connected both to the Internet and to the Imperial Military Communications Network, MILCOMNET.

Mahogany desks were added, along with fine quality carpets and armchairs in the office; the stealth systems and QEC, together with the Silaris reactive armor _and_ anti-proton engines (not to mention the constant need for anti-protons) got so _expensive_ to re-design and build, that at one point luxury items did not matter anymore in the final project cost.

That, among other reasons, was why the one-of-a-kind "Prototype Deep-Recon and Infiltration Stealth Warship" was deemed impossible, both cost-prohibitive and ineffective, to replace the Fencer-class frigates, as early on the design board.

The bedrooms were large by the _Intruder_ standards, a king-sized bed with drawers on each side, a large flatscreen television on the opposite wall, given priority with the ship's transceiver, much like their personal computers.

There was a closet, with both civilian and military clothing. A small fridge for drinks and everything else. While not a five-star hotel room, it still held comfort for the two commanders.

Werner typed the last paragraphs to his e-mail reply. His brother's letter stood open on the secondary monitor, along with an annexed picture of him and his two nephews; Peter and Richard held a large fish together, while Emil held both his sons fishing rods for them, his sister-in-law probably took the picture.

His door swished open, and he knew who it was before she announced herself. He typed the last letters, and sent the file, as she sat down in the chair in front of his desk. The Spectre was clad in the tailor-made Imperial Navy casual uniform, to accommodate for her female-like measures.

A plain form-fitting dark gray tee shirt, without rank badges obviously, only with her name; not different from when she was a Commando, together with equally plain gray digital camouflaged cargo pants.

Werner sported proudly his all-black ISF uniform, ribbons and totenkopf present, as always. However, he wore a tee shirt too, instead of a long sleeved one.

"Did that girl turn up anything useful?" Nyava asked.

"Yes," He reclined back on his own chair. "Sent that report some days ago, before you two arrived. Some shady Salarians hired her group for a quick work, she promptly accepted; they were in bad finances after all."

" _They always are_." She rolled her eyes. "These independent mercs are always lured by the fabled independence from both governments and Omega big-shots. End up having to risk their lives more than they expected, all to keep the base powered on and their stomachs full."

Werner's interest surged. "Sounds like you've got experience with them."

"Comes with being a Spectre. Took down so many of them I don't even count anymore." She shrugged. "Either it is a poor ass bastard who doesn't have a grave to die on, or a rich kid looking for a thrill that red sand does not give. Your boys did it nice and quick, by the way; I've seen the mission recordings, congratulations."

"They're sharp. Xavier passed through here earlier, said you'd ordered him to talk with Mayrithia?"

"Yeah," She looked down. "I think I fucked up…"

"Why's that?"

"Back when we were sniping, at the stock exchange…" she released a sigh. "I wanted to see how far she would go. So I ordered her to focus on the _civilians_ while I eliminated police snipers…"

" _Damn_. Now she's sulking about it?"

"Exactly. And I can't afford to have her become a psychological casualty. I gave her a little talk after we boarded the ship again, but I'm not sure I succeeded completely."

"I've talked to Corporal Alonso too, he had to kill up close and personal. He dealt with it better than I expected; ' _Just doing my job, Sarge; ready and able. I knew what I was getting into during N7, sir._ ' I think he'll take care of it, they're sort of friends after all…"

"I don't know…" She said, leaning forward, with her arms on her knees.

"Look," he said, prompting the Spectre to look up. "You've gotta trust your subordinates; I trust that Alonso seeing me talk to him and actually caring about it, not to mention trusting them to do the mission without my presence, will re-assure him and possibly the others. If not, I trust him to come to me about it; I expect the Commando to do the same. Care for a drink?" She nodded in affirmative, soon after leaving the office he returned with a bottle, sitting together with Nyava near the viewport.

The golden light from the flowing hypermatter outside bathed the room.

"You've never worked together with…anyone…did you?"

"Only during my time on the Asari Navy, and that did not went well. I sort of found my niche at the Spectres." She accepted a glass of wine from the man, before elaborating. "Thank you. When we are together in action, Spectres I mean, it's because the one that got there first, fucked things up. Not even at the Citadel Tower, on the private common lounge for us, there's always grudges, revenges, rivalries; friendship is something you see once or twice during your entire career."

"Sounds _awful_ , if I can be honest with you." The man commented.

"It is!"She laughed, as if remembering something to back the statement. "But…the job offers opportunities most timely and unique. I actually can make up for the relatively meager pay and high Citadel living standards with money made on the side…"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I mean, the Council pays me 160 grand yearly. That simply doesn't cut it if you want to live in the nicer wards. You can do quite the networking with them, those side jobs I mean."

"What kind of jobs?" He asked again, sipping on his glass while she did the same.

Smirking like an unrepentant convict, she answered. " _You know_ …making important people's criminal records _disappear_ , providing _key_ individuals with _vital_ financial information, all with my system-wide Spectre clearance; and of course, _helping the Republics to secure the best possible alliance in centuries_ …"

That elicited a hearty laugh from the black clad operative.

"I'm not flattering you, if that's what you think." She chuckled in response, playing the wine glass in her fingers, staring into the red liquid. "I really believe in what we're doing. I will be able to tell my daughters at the end of my life, that what I did, I did for Thessia."

"I hope to do the same. But tell me, why do you think so?"

"Well, let's begin by the positives. You are _attractive_ , as a species in general, and your symbiotic partners compliment that attractiveness; _although,_ I can't help but to observe that they're overly possessive-" She began, before the man rushed in defense.

" _Come on_ , it's not like that…" She gave him a look that said it all. "…well, _maybe it is_. But they've got _multiple_ reasons to be like that."

" _True enough…_ " She smirked at the innuendo. "Secondly, you know how to fight, _and party_. And thirdly, you seem to be _loyal_ to your agreements. The Hierarchy won't sign an agreement unless on gunpoint, and the Union ones aren't worth the parchment they're written on. And finally, you have a culture, both recent and ancient, that is _on par_ with ours; that is something I, and many in our upper circles, value _greatly,_ both creative minds and strong arms."

"And the negatives?" He poured more wine from the half empty bottle on their glasses, not understanding the weight of the last statement.

"That I have yet to ponder on." She sipped from her glass.

"It's not too hard. We're quick to hate, slow to forgive; and we never, _ever_ , forget. Now, the dangerous part of all that, is that we don't get mad when we hate someone, _we get even_." He took a good swig of the drink.

" _Another_ positive, in my eyes at least." She laughed, before they settled into silence, drinking while staring at the plasma expanse.

"…What did you do before joining Special Forces?" She suddenly asked.

"Federal Security Bureau. I was recruited straight out of college; I had some options then, I could open my own mental health clinic, attempt to work for the government, attempt to work for an Elysian company or taking the offer the two suits offered me; only two of those were stable options, _lifers_ as we call it. But then after some 6 years, I got sick of intelligence reports and interrogating illegal drug producers, smugglers, people caught red handed with illegal research, I wanted to see _real action_ ; so I applied for the ISF…only to be the one actually arresting those same smugglers and busting the same research sites, _and_ to eventually interrogate aliens and produce more intelligence reports behind a desk." He finished with a laugh, gaining one from Nyava too.

"Life does this sort of crazy turn…I think it's up to us to make it either bad of good."

"Drinking always helps…" He said while glancing at their empty glasses and bottle, before asking in conspiracy. "How about something…stronger?"

" _Impress me_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I just have noticed that this chapter is alcohol intensive. Barely noticed when writing it. In any way, thanks for the continued support. Reviews are appreciated. See you all hopefully soon!


	10. Escalation

**A/N:** All ahead flank on the wrong lane! Controversial material below, but you already know that.

Tell me, my readers, what you think about the story, your likes and dislikes, tips and whatever; I very much want to know them, _reviewing_ would be a great way to do it, by the way.

We all have to thank **Xabiar** for proof-reading this chapter.

* * *

 _Sesoln Territory, en route to Sar'Vish._

Constantine stood on the bridge of the AES _Intruder,_ ever gazing ahead with a blank, but serious expression. Immersed in his personal thoughts, reviewing words and speeches; remembering Jack and his father's advice.

' _High, drunk, and stupid, is no way to go through life, son…_ '

Technicians sat on chairs in their control pits below the floor as usual, all extremely self-conscious of themselves with the presence above them.

The motive for such a presence was simple: Irissa had given them the bad news days ago, before her two week schedule ended. The Sesoln knew it all. Hell, they even had video _evidence_ ; and they avidly wanted to meet the new superpower on the block.

The black ship dashed across the Dirac Sea, breaching currents of plasma at nearly a million times the speed of light in realspace. The plasma wasn't too far behind; the entire dimension was a mix between a F5 hurricane and vortex; another universe in constant and uninterrupted movement.

Constantine's deep blue suit was woven with fine threads of silver at the edges, given the nature of the situation, it was a necessity to give a good first impression. It wasn't extravagant, the golden threads barely occupied a centimeter of width on the piece, but the message was clear. At his suit's jacket, a double headed eagle pin, mad out of a single diamond gem.

As per his request, a trusty M25 was holstered under his jacket.

An unnecessary measure, as no one would ever attempt an attack against a foreign representative while on a diplomatic meeting. _That,_ the Sesoln knew very well.

Beside him, four Royal Guards stood at attention. One without training or knowledge would notice them only as ordinary men in suits, albeit two were armed with M45s and all of them with M25s and their hands wore leather gloves for function and style.

But they were nothing but ordinary, if the earplugs did not scream personal security, nothing would. Their bland black suits were not for fashion: Kevlar and hard carbon compositions protected with efficiency against shrapnel and had a fair chance against anything projectile based, below a proper sniper rifle or light machine gun.

For anything of higher firepower, ultra-expensive and prototype _'Svalinn_ ' energy shield projectors were concealed on their forearms, either left or right for prompt use, named after the mythological shield that impeded the sun from scorching the world.

While not covering the full body like the kinetic barrier projectors that are spread through a Citadel soldier's armor, the small device fielded state-of-the-art single use batteries and stelarite wiring, projecting a Universal Defensive Shield panel for 15 seconds; giving out after the time period, or if overwhelmed by heavy firepower.

At the bargain of 1 _billion_ Imperial Credits for each projector, every guard carried four of them, allowing for a full minute of unmatched protection according to the direction the user directs the shield. Cost prohibitive, of course, to apply to anything other than the 200-men strong Royal Guard; much like several technologies on the _Intruder_ itself.

However, elite weaponry for elite soldiers.

For close quarters combat, the guards carried ' _Excalibur_ ' retractable blades on their forearms, also concealed. The 30cm long, double-edged, teldar blades would cut through most materials, or beings, like they were made of butter.

Breaking the silence on the bridge, the Crown Prince said without warning; not turning back from his view either. " _Sergeant Krüger_ , you seem to be glancing at me every two minutes. Anything you wish to say?"

"Permission to speak freely, your Majesty?" The man asked, standing straighter than ever behind the younger man.

"By all means." He encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, while his career flashed before his eyes, the ISF operative gathered the courage to talk. "I'm worried about the consequences that the revealing of our actions on that mercenary base might inflict on my soldiers. After all, their faces were the ones recorded, from what you told us, sir."

"Do not worry. The mission was a success." After that, Werner released a breath he did not remember holding. "How could Corporals Shepard and Alonso predict that a Volus individual would be there? And even that the pathetic life form did not possess a beating heart to appear on their sensors? For all intents and purposes, the hangar was clear of all hostiles."

"Thank you, sir."

"We were discovered by two things, Sergeant. Incompetence is not one of them."

The Spectre, in civilian clothing, standing beside the human operative, couldn't hold back her curiosity, and asked. "May I ask which were they, you Majesty?"

Turning towards her with an amused smile, Constantine answered. "An _extreme_ case of bad luck," Nyava and Werner couldn't help but to share his mirth with smiles of their own. "And a very cunning opponent. Dalatrass Nizen could formulate a plan of action, deduce which of her enemies were working with us and chose a suitable target to have her confirmation; based on what I know were only tidbits of information. I can believe now, the description of her persona as a genius."

* * *

 _Sar'Vish_

Sar'Vish was a planet much similar to Sur'Kesh itself. Vast jungles, and mountainous ground, with lakes, waterfalls and three massive oceans separating the four continents from each other.

Orbiting a yellow main sequence star, and well within the habitable zone; the planet was a few things short of a summer paradise.

The Sesoln allowed private ownership of several estates for the rich and powerful of the Galaxy, the prices were as obscenely high as the planet was obscenely beautiful.

Irissa couldn't care less, none of those things passed through her mind now.

Anger; at being in a disadvantaged position. Hatred; directed at the two Salarian females seated on the other sofa across the room from her. Anxiousness; from Constantine's impending arrival.

But her face betrayed nothing, the neutral expression she wore was always present. The same expression she used to deal with subordinates, and even her peers on the Council. One practiced literally for years.

She wore the usual body-covering diplomatic dress, with her hands softly resting upon her lap.

Nizen and Cinis sat comfortably and were relaxed, being in their home. Both wore their regal robes, denoting clear royalty.

The room matched the opulence, both from their owners and the estate itself; nothing short of a small castle, with the common whites and grays of the Salarian naturally near aquatic architecture.

Lush tropical gardens, pools, saunas and spas were in the vicinity. The private beach complemented it all.

A voice broke the thick and tense air between the two parties. " _My Dalatrass, the foreign ship has initiated atmospheric entry. It has no identifications except for small white markings near the bow."_

"Instruct them to dock or land at my personal residence. I will meet their shore party soon enough; _do not_ harass them in any way, or I'll have you horns removed." Nizen ordered, before turning to Irissa with a smile as she rose with her daughter in tow. "Councilor, would you accompany us in this most important moment?"

Irissa, if she could, would strangle the gloating lizard in front her; but she could only answer with words. "Of _course_ , Dalatrass. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

* * *

Constantine strode forward with intent and confidence. His four guards surrounded him, ready to defend him with their Svalinns and weapons, even their very lives if it came to that. The heat of the ground-side was mitigated by the oceanic wind as they marched on a pavement, exiting the black Hammerhead that took them from the Intruder at nearby spaceport towards the estate.

Irissa's white diplomatic dress flowed with the wind and shone with the sun, together with the Dalatrass and the Princess' own clothing, as she stood near the castle's entrance from the docking. The Salarians could barely hold their faces neutral with anticipation at the First Contact. Their quick eyes scanned every possible detail of the approaching aliens.

After moments that resembled centuries, the newcomers arrived.

Irissa promptly stole the initiative from the two monarchs beside her. She stepped forward, greeting the approaching man and swiftly changing from High Thessian into Imperial Standard; far and low enough to make their conversation inaudible to the Salarians.

"I'm glad you could come. Welcome to the shitshow that I've got myself into." She muttered, while extending her hand for the man to shake.

He took it, but gave it a courteous kiss on her knuckles before answering; a kiss that did not go unnoticed by the aliens. "It could have been severely worse _,_ don't you think?" he gave her the same smile from their own 'first contact'.

"That remains to be seen," she replied, before turning back to face the two women, and speaking in an audible tone. "Dalatrass Nizen and Princess Cinis of the Sesoln, this is Crown Prince Constantine Valeri from the Interstellar Aryan Empire."

"It is an utmost honor to meet you in my domains, your Highness." Nizen said, with Constantine's own hidden earplug translating, while bowing shortly with Cinis mimicking her mother.

Constantine returned the gesture, and responded. "Likewise, Dalatrass. I hope our meeting can be productive."

"Indeed, I very much desire to speak with you." Nizen smirked, and continued. "Please, accompany us inside; it is my pleasure to offer you my highest hospitality."

* * *

Both guard details, Human and Salarian stared at each other on the back of the room. A tense peace.

"I don't want to sound rude, Dalatrass," Constantine said as he settled himself on the couch _next_ Irissa; a fact that did not go unnoticed either. "But…state your intentions. I do not need to dance around the issue at hand."

The orange-skinned Salarian wasted no time. "We are aware both your Empire and the Republics have formed a secret covenant. We are also aware that you seek to destabilize the Salarian Union and the Turian Hierarchy, for…well, increasing your own power."

Irissa and Constantine, and by consequence the Republics and the Empire, ironically looked like two adolescents caught doing the deed. Except both had no sign of shame or regret. For many moments, his face was as serious as when he had arrived; then it was suddenly over, for he beamed at Irissa and then turned at the fellow monarch with the same face.

"I'm genuinely curious, how did you manage to discover it?" The man asked.

"It wasn't easy. If I may indulge myself, _no one_ in Citadel space would be able to rationalize all possible hints and come to this conclusion," she gloated once again. "First, when you bombed Tuchanka, that made a dent in CDEM and into the Turian fleet in orbit, and also made the Hierarchy believe the attackers were the Salarian Union. But Erlana hasn't got the courage to enact such a measure, that is, accepting the reality and striking first, half-hatched hexa-frog that she is."

Cinis took the cue, and continued, before her mother entered a tirade against her far removed cousin. "Neither would the Hierarchy false-flag it, during their harvest period nonetheless. We had sufficient intelligence on their Krogan project to evaluate it to be incomplete. Therefore, the only other option remaining was the Asari Republics."

Nizen quickly took the reins of the conversation again. "But we had our own reservations, after all, we had teams in Tuchanka monitoring the activities the clans, the CDEM fleet, and the mercenaries on the ground. Luckily we could get signals intelligence on the day of the attack, which reported use of directed energy weapons used by attacking infantry. That is something very, _very_ , uncommon in Citadel Space; therefore we suspected the Republics was not acting alone. But, we did not have certainty of that yet, neither proof to confront the Asari."

Cinis did not waste the opportunity to show off again. "I cross-linked some information, both public and not-so-classified, to shed light into the situation. For example, Councilor Irissa wasn't seen at Thessia, where she usually spends her recess. We did not have any bearing on her location elsewhere either. Then we noticed that after the Tuchanka bombing, too without any destination, another Matriarch left Asari space. The question was where both of them were so intent on going."

"It was then, that we contacted a mercenary band to hijack her ship; because if our suspicions were right, you'd come after her. And you did, all of the mercenaries had wounds consistent with the ones reported on Tuchanka, we even had luck that the Volus arms dealer recorded the firefight. Eventually, you without doubt learned of our meddling through the mercenary leader; but we contacted you first."

Silence reigned as Constantine collected his thoughts. ' _No idea of our territory location, no idea of our force composition neither of the full extent of our 'covenant' with the Asari or technologies. No idea of our infiltrated agents through Asari space. They are also bitter rivals of the leading clan in the Union, and possess damning evidence, that if presented to the Hierarchy would force our action.'_

Irissa spoke before he could. "What are your demands _?_ "

"Why do you entertain the notion-"

"Don't assume I am _stupid_. What do you want Nizen?" Irissa coldly cut the Dalatrass short.

"She wants us to remove her cousin from power. It is that simple; then, once she is in power, she will wage war on the Turian Hierarchy for us." Constantine declared, chestnut eyes boring straight into Nizen's black ones. "And if we refuse to do so, she will forward footage from Varchyanka to the Internal Affairs Division, and if they have half a brain, they'll connect all the dots STG will _provide_ for them, and see that we are indeed responsible for…well, _everything_."

Nizen could only smile.

"Now, Dalatrass, I have not accepted that yet. But enlighten me, how do you plan to execute such insurgency against your kin? To the benefit of an _alien superpower_ at that."

"The Vaerdall have no right to rule the Salarian species, or _speak_ for the Salarians at all. Our two clans used to be one, many generations back. But Dalatrass Laizis, in what I can only classify as a surge of insanity, split the original clan between her two daughters upon her death. War ensued, the Second Salarian Civil War. Regrettably, Sur'Kesh was at the hands of the Vaerdall, so most galactic states supported them due to the advantageous position, albeit Dalatrass Yaklis, the one to control Kel'Shan, being the eldest."

"Some clans supported us, but the economic, and military sanctions imposed by the Council starved our war progress. _We lost_." Cinis completed.

Irissa couldn't help but to comment dryly. "So, you plan to have me to stall things for you at the Council, or at the very least keep the Asari neutral, while they have to fight _your_ wars for you? How… _convenient._ "

"Not exactly," Nizen corrected. "We cannot spring up a secret alien ally superpower out of the lagoon, it would be as suspicious as it gets. We cannot either have any say on the Salarian Councilor, for we do not control Sur'Kesh; but the Citadel Council is of paramount importanceto the Galaxy, it is how we define the policy of our interactions as major nations and how we keep the lesser races in line…"

Constantine promptly rose, and took Irissa to the sunny veranda, as his guards silently formed a wall between the two and the rest of the room; all the while Nizen observed, with both hands on her laps, and a smirk on her face.

Once away from prying ears, or their Salarian equivalent, the Prince spoke to the asari. "I've figured it all already. This lizard wants to reveal the Empire to the Galaxy. She wants us to become part of the 'rich kids club', so we can literally stalemate all possible votes against her little rebellion; and then eventually give her military support."

Irissa replied with a smirk on her face, and a devious look in her eyes. "I must say,I have considered this option myself _._ Having an official First Contact, I mean _._ We could consolidate our position, legitimize our alliance for the public. And you'd reap all the benefits of being part of the…upper class _._ It would ease things, you'd be the wild card; everybody would seek your favor, but _oh dear_ , you'd already be committed…I would die to see their faces _!_ "

Constantine raised an eyebrow. "But how does one _even get_ into the Council?"

"Officially, a species must prove it can contribute a large measure to the galactic society. In truth, we can pretty much bar whoever we want to and accept through the same criteria. The Salarians only got in because they had a more powerful fleet and land army at the time of our contact. The Turians for the same reason; and for ending the Rebellions. I think your term for this would be realpolitik."

She did not waste any time before tempting the man even more. "You'd be _officially_ what you already are, that rare breed of species designed for _greatness!_ "

Constantine eyed every facial detail she presented.

"Well, I have no choice anyway. In the same way I had none on First Contact." he said, after a long pause and a deep sigh.

* * *

"When and how did you meet?" Cinis asked, as she handled the silverware with grace.

Both parties now enjoyed a dinner on the estate, negotiations and diplomacy temporarily forgotten for a little break.

The Prince replied shortly, giving as little information as possible. "Months ago, an Asari research vessel stumbled out of a relay within our territory, it met a patrol squadron and was quickly apprehended. From there on we could learn about the Citadel and its species."

"It is remarkable how you two are alike. I can clearly see why you allied yourselves so _quickly_." Nizen couldn't help but say what was in both hers and her daughter's minds.

Constantine continued, ignoring the previous assertion. "Dalatrass, if we're going to work together, Ineed to fully know the military capabilities of your clan; so we can act accordingly."

Cinis face transformed into indignation instantly. "Do you forget that there's a Republics representative in the room? How can we reveal military information so _freely_?!"

The man was unperturbed. "Do you want me to find out the hard way? If you want my species to help with your revenge, be transparent!"

Nizen pondered for some moments before answering the alien. "We have the second largest fleet in the Union, over ten thousand warships. We employ a hit-and-run doctrine. As such, the great majority of those vessels are cruisers and frigates. The Sesoln Navy does not possess large quantities of dreadnoughts, which then are only committed to _specific_ and strategic battles. Our ships utilize fusion engines for transit speeds which can inject anti-protons on the reaction chambers to achieve proper military speed; much like the rest of the galaxy, but I'm sure the Councilor has already informed this to you."

Cinis continued. "The Treaty of Farixen limits the Salarian clans and the several Asari Republics to a limit in dreadnought construction in relation to the Hierarchy. Five to three to one, for the lesser nations. Armament wise, we utilize spinal mounted mass accelerators; speeding slugs suspended in mass-effect fields through a series of coils. Turians utilize Thanix hydro-magnetic cannons, which function through the same principle, but achieve exceptionally higher kinetic energy, through higher mass and speed; STG calculates impact force at around 585 Kilotons of TNT."

Nizen added. "We, of course, enjoy some technological superiority over our peers; as such, we utilize ultra-violet lasers, instead of infrared ones, on our GARDIAN systems; in addition to our electromagnetic shields, which can defend against both kinetic penetrators and directed energy weapons."

Irissa looked towards Constantine. "Turians and Asari utilize cyclonic kinetic barriers, while Council associates, and everyone else utilize normal barriers. I never wondered that the Union used EM shields. As I've told you before, modern non-thanix mass accelerators impact with only 193 Kilotons."

The man turned away from the Asari and crossed his fingers on the table, while his eyes bore into Nizen. "Are you sure there is nothing else? Namely the fact that you knew where our ship would exit FTL?"

Silence settled in as mother and daughter looked to each other, debating without words if they should reveal the newest addition to the Salarian Navy. With a heavy sigh, Nizen spoke. "We have developed gravity wake sensors. They detect anomalies on space-time fabric, I will not bore you with tech, but space-time suffers greatly from objects at speeds faster than c; and as you know, gravity affects all regions of the universe, therefore it is faster than light."

"Full of surprises, _Salarian_." Irissa jabbed with exasperation.

Nizen wasted no time in countering the accusation. "Your alliance with them is as transparent as our own secrets! Spare me the diatribe, _Asari;_ your allies don't even use Element Zero FTL!"

"Debate does not help. But I'm pleased by this gesture of trust." Constantine rushed to placate the impending exchange.

Flashing him a smile, the Dalatrass continued. "I appreciate your sentiment. Tell me, I'm curious and confused, should I call your species Human or Aryan? You seem to use both…"

Irissa took the liberty to give a short answer. "Human is the term they use for species, like Salarian, or Asari. But 'Aryan' is like calling you 'Sesoln'; your identity."

Constantine elaborated. "'Aryan' is sort of personal, specific. It is _far_ older than 'human'; but it stems from our culture group and by consequence sub-species, as of today, it is roughly twenty two thousand years old. We were the first sub-species to master animal husbandry on the steppes of our homeworld, which enabled us to literally be the first to develop the wheel and cavalry warfare; riders armed with lances, swords, and bows. Coupled with the wheel, we also developed wagons, and chariots, the first war vehicles of our history."

And so, the tense dinner continued, with Irissa and Nizen occasionally subtly insulting each other; as Constantine and Cinis attempted to placate and end confrontations before they even began.

* * *

 _AES Intruder docked with ARS Athame, hours later._

The frigate and the diplomatic courier orbited a gas giant, being bathed in the blue-white light of both the system's sun. They had left Sar'Vish as hurriedly as they arrived.

The slightly smaller Asari vessel stood as an oddity against the frigate; silvery with blue designs and with a near aquatic design, gentle curves and soft angles, contrasting against the non-reflective black and sharpness of the infiltration warship.

On Irissa's room, aboard the _Athame_ , things were somewhat similar.

"Did you see how that disgusting frog insulted me and the Republics at every turn!? I wish I could strangle her to _death_!" The Asari paced around, while Constantine prepared two drinks at the bar counter.

The man's tie was long discarded, along with the jacket, his white social shirt was slightly unbuttoned and he had his sleeves rolled up his arms as he so enjoyed; his M25 rested on the bar counter. Irissa still wore her white diplomatic dress, although all adornments, including her shoes, were discarded.

"Yes, I know." Came the neutral response.

"I should have foreseen it! I should have…The Sesoln were always such _problematic_ fucks!"

"Pay no mind, Irissa," he placated. "Neither Jack nor I, hell, neither _the Senate_ , likes to be blackmailed. We're going to get back at her for this. I'll see to it… _personally._ "

"I wanted to be the one to propose this option to you, not her! And not this way! I wish I could present your people on _my_ terms, on our _own_ will. And not at the beck and call of mud groveling _lizards_!"

"Irissa, _calm down_ , for God's sake." The man chastised, while bringing the drinks to her. "It could have been way worse; I will avoid a pan-galactic war if I'm able to do so."

"But we'll be at their hands _forever_. She'll _always_ have evidence that we fomented hostilities between the Union and the Hierarchy…"

" _Irissa_ ," the man shot a dark look towards her, while sipping on his drink. "We just commissioned _sixty six hundred_ warships after we made first contact. I'm positively sure that this will be convincing enough to keep Cinis from bothering us in the future, _after_ her mother's _unfortunate_ demise. She appears to be both more inexperienced and less arrogant; and she won't _dare_ to cross me again."

Irissa smirked, and said from across the living space. "What do you plan on doing?"

"I'll propose that we go through with her plan, a military intervention can give invaluable experience to our troops. And it can be great for some propaganda ideas Jack had planned." He paused to sip on his drink. "But Nizen's going to die. Poor her. I gotta tell you, Irissa, you were smart and lucky to not blackmail us into an alliance with you. Even though it looked like that…"

"It would _not_ have worked the way you think it would," she declared. "The Hierarchy and the Union wouldn't have attacked you outright. There wasn't any good reason neither intelligence for such. They'd most likely be stumbling over themselves for your good favor to use against the other two, as I have stated. Poor them _._ "

"Well, we had not interpreted it as such at the time," the man confessed. "We thought that you'd reveal yourselves to the other two superpowers, and they'd immediately attempt to put us down."

She made a face dismissing the notion as if it were ridiculous. "That only happened once, some four hundred years ago. We, Asari, are not barbarians."

"What exactly happened?"

"The Turian-Raloi War." she put the empty conical glass on the center table, and continued. "The Turians stumbled upon another space-faring race on the edge of their territory, politics came and went and within two months we had a shooting war. They refused any attempts by the Republics or the Salarian Union to defuse the situation, and ended up being made into a client race, much like the Volus, albeit under different circumstances…"

* * *

 _Pavrana System, Former Rachni -Salarian Union border._

Pavrana was a star without any garden world in orbit. The red dwarf painted everything scarlet, on the last breaths of a dying sun. Two gas giants on a wide and slow orbit and a single barren world closer to the star made up for the major celestial bodies.

But it was still a useful system, despite the lack of habitable worlds.

The first planet, Pavrana I, had heavy presence of mineral colonies. Deep mining sinkholes, protected by environmental domes, housed the miners and protected them from the toxic atmosphere. Iridium, Platinum, other raw materials, and even trace amounts of Element Zero were intensively mined off the planet's crust.

Pavrana II had large concentrations of Helium-3 on the upper echelons of its atmosphere, including deep aerial currents of Lythuric gas; element that was _essential_ to the construction of Salarian electromagnetic shields.

Two stations on opposite orbits constantly coordinated the skimming of both gases and housed the numerous quantities of workers required to run the operation.

However, the Hierarchy did not know that particular detail about Salarian shipbuilding.

Two cargo transports slipped out of FTL on their scheduled times, slowly making their way towards their designated docking ports; one towards the first planet, the other two towards the gas giants.

Only one of them carried the expected supplies.

* * *

 _Operation Grinder, Pavrana System_

The space on the cargo vessel was somewhat cramped. Fake containers littered the ship, which supposedly housed food and other materials that could not be obtained on the harsh planetary bodies. Instead, they carried water, to give additional mass, and several squads of Cabalites; third generation, elite of the elite.

Half genetic modification and half machine. Some radical elements within the Turian military even questioned their very identity as member of the species; and their subsequent rights.

Extensive genetic modification gave them biotics approaching that of Asari commandos, augmented reflexes, and blood coagulation speeds forcibly extracted from the Krogan.

Together with bleeding edge cybernetic implants designed by ERCS, and prototype weaponry courtesy of Armax; the Hierarchy gave the operatives a much valued, and illegal, edge in an ever-changing battlefield.

Their biological eyes were replaced with advanced implants; inbuilt HUDs displaying their weapons' cross hairs, heat level and armor grenade count, along with the relative position of their friendlies and identified hostiles on a radar-like display; also displaying their vital signs. Even when the operatives discarded their helmets.

Their bones were reinforced with carbon-fiber, reducing trauma from impact and physical attacks, muscle strength was slightly enhanced with synthetic weaves on them. Artificial lungs and airways enabled the soldiers to breath on mildly poisonous environments.

Drawbacks were still being evaluated, both physical and psychological.

Team Dusk stood motionless inside their containers. The only light inside came from their T-shaped helmet visors, customary to Turian armor designs, glowing white in the dark.

Slowly, sounds could be heard through the thick metal of the box; being rolled out of the transports by the maglev carriers, muffled clangs of the magnetic crane acting on their containers. Minutes passed before the order was given.

" _Sunrise."_ Suddenly echoed through their comm channels.

Dusk 1 stepped forward, not even two meters, on his container. His omni-tool lit up in orange, as it interacted with the container's door.

In perfect motion, 4 containers within the massive cargo bay of the station opened up.

Teams Dusk, Rust, Gloom, and River exited their metal confinements in rehearsed manner. No one saw it coming; black armored Turians sneaked out of the metal boxes, taking advantage positions while the organized chaos of the hangar went on.

Out in the light, their helmets' visors now only appeared to be dull white, contrasting with the dark gray armor.

Amid the flurry of logistics, as supply ordering forms were checked and ship manifests re-checked, the seemingly innocent Turian pilots shot the Salarian bureaucrats that questioned where the rest of the cargo was. And then proceeded to seal their ships from outside intervention as the four teams of Cabalites executed anyone present; suddenly assaulting from the four different corners of the hangar, leaving their hidden positions.

The sounds of machinery intermingled with rifle fire and the flaring of the alarm.

Guards who guarded the station reacted quicker and in a more professional manner than the defenseless workers. They took cover behind crates and metal columns, attempting to return fire in orderly manner; while many were instantly sniped from hidden sharpshooters, Gloom 9 and Dusk 9, on the containers.

The enhanced soldiers quickly reacted to armed resistance. Taking covers of their own, while maneuvering to take kill shots. Team River together with Team Rust simply ignored the threat, bypassing the engagement and entering the elevators towards their respective targets.

Dusk 7 and 8 biotically jumped three containers up from the circle the marines had formed, laying accurate suppressive fire from above, while also picking off any exposed target. Gloom from 1 to 8 laid a barrage of fire from their ARX-34s on the pinned down Salarians from multiple positions; the ARX-34 ' _Katana_ ' was the newest development of Armax line of assault rifles, used exclusively by the Hierarchy Armed Forces. Yellow and green tracers, from the Turian and Salarian combatants, intermingled with the blue of biotics.

Firing 160mg tungsten grains at 5700m/s, the Katana achieved exponentially higher stopping power than competitor models through the Galaxy; each 0.5Kg ammunition clip awarded more than three thousand shots before being depleted. Newest ERCS designed inertial stabilizers and heat sinks awarded enhanced accuracy and rate of fire.

Soon enough, there were not any more Salarians alive. Either sniped, with severe trauma from biotics, or riddled with slugs; the place was nothing but absolute carnage.

Not bothering to check the bodies of their victims, both teams regrouped and advanced through the hangar bay, moving further into the station.

At first, no one was encountered through the wide corridors.

The Turians pressed further, communicating between themselves their positions and coordinating firing alleys.

Dusk 1 was about to turn a corner with his rifle's muzzle already turning, when several shots ricocheted off his barriers, flaring the Turian shields to life for the first time in the assault.

" _Contact! Dead ahead!_ " He shouted, taking a step back and covering his body on the wall. " _Dusk 2! Create a barrier for our advance!_ "

And the soldier immediately complied, holstering his weapon and glowing blue, as he activated his biotics. A mass effect field surged on the corridor, blocking any fire from the enemies guarding the doorway at the end of the hallway.

Dusk 2 surged forward, protected by his projected field, while Dusk 3 and 4 flanked him, returning unopposed fire towards the barricade. Guards fell left and right, fielding inferior barriers, armor, and under sustained fire.

The rest of the team surged behind the three man vanguard, as the Salarians on the corridor's end dared not to peak their heads from their improvised cover.

Dusk 1 finished them by throwing a grenade towards the huddled group, the guards weathered down barriers couldn't hold the shock neither the fragments; all perished instantly, spreading green blood on the sterile white floor.

The team quickly advanced towards the elevator doorway, nine Cabalites rushing past the Salarians riddled by grain sized slugs or shredded by the grenade.

With a wordless command, Dusk 9, who had exchanged his ARX-40 ' _Equalizer_ ' DMR for a the ARX-20 ' _Striker_ ' sidearm, now holstered the pistol too; bringing up his omni-tool and interacting with the elevator panel, with the haptic interface glowing red.

" _Four minutes, sir._ " He called to Dusk 1.

" _Make it two."_

Not long after, the interface turned green and the door swished open, and the Cabalites entered, heading for the main control room. While Team Gloom had long departed through other corridors towards the mess halls and crew quarters, joining team Rust on their staging area.

* * *

The door opened, and the squad exited in practiced manner. The corridors were lit up in red, denoting that a lockdown was in effect. They moved like wraiths, sharp movements as they scanned corridor after corridor leading to the main room.

Finally, after many gunshots, and cowering technicians executed, they arrived at the control center; not lighted in red, but rather in harsh white.

On the top row of consoles, on the far end of the room, stood two Salarians. A systems operator who hadn't ran away flanked the Manager, dutifully warding off the intrusions on their systems made by Team River way down on the engineering section, as the Manager himself coordinated the defenses against Gloom and Rust to the remaining team on the crew quarters.

The station schematics with all hostiles, and friendlies, was projected on the middle of the room, up in the air.

The Head Manager of the mining stations on the star system taunted, while he watched the squad rise through the stairs, past the empty consoles. "You've lost, Turian! Message was sent to the Union on the moment you began shooting!"

" _No…you have lost_." He retorted out loud, before ordering his men through the comm channel. " _Bind him, and restrain the other._ "

And so they did; the younger technician struggled uselessly against the soldiers screaming obscenities, his boss did not resist being bound. The soldiers and brave civilians who put up a fight against the special forces on the crew quarters succumbed shortly, without the direction of the all-seeing eyes of the Head Manager; Team River, by the Engineering section, injected virus after virus on their systems while also sealing all doors to any other crew members still alive in the other sections, effectively trapping anyone they had not killed yet.

He was led to the space leading to the consoles, held by both arms; he was forced to kneel.

Dusk 9 stood in front of him tapping on his omni-tool, and begun recording, as Dusk 1 stood behind the Salarian. The shouting tech was led away from the room, to not spoil the vid.

His voice came low and menacing through the helmet speaker. " _You attacked us on foreign soil, you murdered our brothers and sisters on our very land. We will strike back, today and tomorrow. The escalation of this situation only plays in your demise._ "

Dusk 1 drew his tanto from its sheath, resting on his lower back, and placed the blade gently on the Salarian's throat, while pulling the alien's head slightly back.

" _For Palaven!_ " And he drew the ceremonial blade across the orange skin.

The amphibian was held in place with the free hand of his executioner, as he gurgled in his own green blood. Words escaped him on his final moments, his short life ran through his black eyes.

And then shortly after, he stopped struggling against the looming end, he became nothing more but a bleeding limp corpse.

Dusk 9 ended the recording, and pulled an OSD from the omni-tool on his forearm.

They exited the room, leaving the body behind. The rebellious technician had an Optical Storage Disk thrust into his chest, as the Turians released him.

" _Take this back to your Dalatrass, Salarian. Run while you still can, there's a ship waiting for you at hangar 25._ " The soldier ordered, not betraying a single emotion.

And he did, he ran and ran, not stopping to help his fellows who banged at locked doors, or those who hadn't completely died from the received shots and bled to death on the ground. He ran until his lungs hurt, until he arrived at the specified hangar and ship.

* * *

Two Turian cruisers and six frigates slipped off from faster-than-light travel on Pavrana I orbit.

They wasted no time on spreading themselves across the globe, overlooking all settled landmasses. Not a single mining settlement was left out of range from their Thanix weaponry.

Slugs darted off from their spinal mounts, the 30kg tungsten projectiles impacted the settlements at more than 5000 kilometers per second, impossible to follow with the naked eye as the fell from the sky, slicing open the hostile atmosphere. Appearing only as bright trails of plasma.

From the cruisers, 90 Kilotons of TNT every fifteen seconds bombarded the surface of the first planet on multiple spots, their destruction reigned unopposed. The completely unprotected mines were annihilated instantly, the earth collapsed on itself and buried all occupants alive on the deeper echelons, or outright disintegrated them if they were on the ground zero of the impact.

The less powerful frigates finished off their targets at a much quicker pace, firing 10kg slugs at 4000 km/s, they unleashed 20 Kilotons of kinetic energy every five seconds.

After a single minute of bombardment, all of the already few industrial sites on the planet were wrecked. Refineries, spaceports, transport hubs, mines, and surface population settlements; all destroyed by the total 2.12 Megatons of TNT collectively released.

However, without heat waves and radiation, only pure kinetic energy was imparted on a single point and displaced air.

Not even close for any proper settled and developed world, merely a scratch in a modern infrastructure. But more than enough to _crush_ a small mining colony on a hostile planet.

On the gas giants, two cargo transports full of silent soldiers, but smug pilots made their way safe from the orbits of the two stations. On the complete opposite direction, a small shuttle sped away from the looming catastrophe.

A signal went off from the cargo vessels; the viruses sprung in action.

The stations' stabilizing thrusters ignited, doing the complete opposite of their function.

Their circular orbits closed and closed, until they no more orbited the planet. They were on a crash course.

Not more than thirty minutes elapsed since their ignition, and both silver stations ignited in fiery plasma as they performed re-entry on the massive planets. Parts and modules of the stations separated, as components of the mass effect fields protecting it failed, and the ionized gas cut through steel and ceramics like hot knife on butter.

The panicked and locked residents watched in impotence as they were de-orbited forcibly. Soon, those close to the exterior walls or those still in hangars, were burnt to crisps and eventually vaporized in the extreme heat. The interior atmosphere began to cook anyone further inside the stations, as the exterior metal hull was nothing but slag.

All collected hydrogen ignited, decimating the stations in fiery explosions, spreading the molten metal bits through the strong currents as the stations, or their remains, penetrated further and further into the atmosphere.

All ships on the system, cruisers, frigates, freighters and shuttles, entered FTL to their destinations.

There was nothing there for them anymore, no mission, no job, and no survivors.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. It's funny, when I read fan-fiction in the past I thought I'd never be as excited with a story if I were the one writing it. Turned out I was squarely wrong. Leave a review, or e-mail me at the address I provided last chapter, if you prefer to do so. And thanks for the continued support.


	11. Precipice

**A/N** **:** Long time no see. I wish I could have finished this sooner, but some things got in the way.

Regardless of that, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to **Xabiar** , this is not a convoluted mess.

* * *

 _AES Intruder, Common Area_

A white, almost perfect ball, laid upon green fabric, accompanied by several other colored ones with numbers in their surfaces. Xavier took his time, spreading chalk over the stick and smoothing the point for a better performance while it slid through his fingers.

Werner supported himself on his own wooden pole, staring intently at the table and at the player who leaned over it. The ambient music barely reached his ears as he attempted to calculate the odds of winning the match.

Kaidan's arm pushed forward, propelling the while ball forward by the sliding stick. A colored ball then went swiftly down the hole.

The man wasted no time teasing. "Four more to go Shep, you two are going to lose this."

"All will be settled," Shepard answered without hesitation. "Don't worry."

"You and Sarge lost two games already, this is your last breathing chance before pubic humiliation." Xavier returned, moving to Shepard's side while Kaidan re-positioned himself alongside the pool table.

"What is the point of this game?" Mayrithia asked, while standing near the four players, taking care not to get in the way.

Werner broke his focus away from his partner's movements, turning to answer the Asari's question. "The balls serve much like the card deck we showed you the other day; as tools to creating different games. For example, in this one we're playing, one of the teams, or players when in a duel, must put all his designated balls on these holes with nets at the edge of the table, and when he's finished, he must also 'kill' the black ball with the 8 written on it; for that he uses the stick and the white ball to move the others. The two sets of balls, called 'smooth' when painted in a single color, or 'striped' when having the white or black circle on their number, are designated by the first ball someone scores as their intended targets for the remainder of the game. Shepard's first ball was striped, naturally ours are the smooth ones."

Werner paused briefly. "If he accomplishes that before the adversary, he wins a game. Losing four in a row without winning one, like we're attempting not to do, is considered shameful. Just good spirited teasing, you know."

"As I said," Shepard said, while smirking to Kaidan. "All will be settled."

" _Of course it_ -" Kaidan's focus suffered as he answered Shepard, the stick hit the ball slightly off mark; it in turn proceeded to miss his intended target.

"Why thank you, Kaidan! You're such a good sport." Xavier quickly dropped one of his own team's spheres at a nearby net, calling Kaidan's penalty for not hitting a ball with the white one. He positioned himself for his turn.

" _Man, I swear…_ " was all that came back.

Xavier aligned his eyes with the stick, extending his arm and flexing the pole back and forth on the table, in preparation for his move.

A strong strike suddenly followed, the white ball hit another, which then sped across the table to hit another one. Both of them went down the hole.

"Heh, looks like someone was hiding his skills this whole time."

"What can I say, my uncles loved to play billiards. We're now even, however, _and it's still my turn_."

"Mocking a superior officer with fellow subordinates," Werner joked. "I'll make sure to report this sort of behavior!"

"Low blow, sarge, low blow…" Shepard replied with a chuckle of his own.

" _XO Werner Krüger, report to the CO quarters immediately._ " The speaker broke the merriment shared by the squad.

"Deserted by my own commander. _I will not forget this_."

The laughing returned this time in full force.

* * *

 _Kel'Shan, Throne Room_

Once again, things were playing in Nizen's favor. She would perhaps call them spurs of good luck. Blessings even, if she believed in anything but political acumen.

For the first time in her 29 years of life, she had seen Erlana speechless, and the fellow Dalatrasses angry at the ruler of Sur'Kesh.

The birds had done just what she needed right now; _shot back_.

Two orbital refineries destroyed and an entire mining colony totaled, the body count soared into the thousands. Not that she cared anyway; not her people, neither her money lost.

A panicked systems analyst had nearly crashed his ship into Sur'Kesh attempting to bring the news. That amusing recording, those ominous words that Erlana had apparently taken to the heart.

The room full of monarchs of higher and lesser degree erupted in confusion, betrayal, and anger, as soon as she had announced that she would not begin hostilities, formal or otherwise, with the Hierarchy. In their privacy from media or 'foreign' diplomats, some pleaded a response, some had lost their practiced Salarian temper. Some of her lapdogs, however, defended her decision vehemently.

' _How can we strike back in retaliation to an original retaliation of things we have not even done! It would be as good as admitting ourselves guilty!_ ' She remembered the words of another Dalatrass.

She herself did not waste time then, to fan the fires of conflict and rebellion. _'Did we? Do we have guarantee that one of us isn't goading the others into this? I can only wonder how they could_ _strike such installations. As far as we know, the Turians have given no indication whatsoever to our new naval capabilities. As such, they can't have any idea of the importance of those refineries. I need not to explain how they could have gathered such intelligence.'_

After that, and some other back and forth words she had with other Dalatrasses, the room was barely civil until Erlana's stern calls for silence. Nizen wondered if it was out of true blind loyalty, bribery, or fear of Erlana's _own_ retaliation that no one dared to comment further.

At the gathering, all Nizen wanted to do was to let slip a strident laugh. The surreal nature of the entire situation was truly unbelievable; how easily they fell for her suggestions.

Now, to her added delight, Dalatrass Azena had just paid her a visit. Azena had yellow skin, with symmetrical blue birthmarks on her face. Both Dalatrasses wore their diplomatic robes, with hoods covering their horns. The other female sat across from her cushion, on the empty throne room.

"Tell me, Nizen, did Cinis grow satisfactorily?"

Nizen finished sipping on her iced tea, savoring the taste for a moment, before lowering the cup and answering. "Yes, she did. Particularly, these last months have been _essential_ in her development. I remember when I was sixteen, right after my mother's death. The clan was practically thrown into my lap; I am glad she could grow in a sheltered environment."

"You rose above, indeed. Erlana earned a notable opponent in our inner circle in these years…though I wouldn't call our courts a sheltered place, despite her not growing directly into the fray."

The evening outside brought the moist warmth of the summer on Kel'Shan, with vivid colors from the suspended gardens countering the sterility of the tall monoliths of concrete and glass.

Azena placed her tea back into the table, her hands settled into her lap, instantly gaining Nizen's full attention. For a second, she hesitated with her words. "I…I do not believe we are following the correct path."

Nizen's smiled internally, but demonstrated no emotion outwardly, instead settling for returning her cup to the table. "Neither do I."

If one word could describe Azena, it would be ' _uncomfortable'_. "I know both our clans have been deeply…wronged…by the Vaerdall in the past; when we supported your ancestor to the throne of Sur'Kesh. Despite the situation, I do not like to entertain notions of betrayal, even in fleeting thought; lest we fracture into disparate and weak nations. So I must know beforehand, are you responsible for this shadow that looms over our heads?"

" _No, I'm not_." She truly did not lie. "I speak without falseness; my own agents haven't been able to determine the true culprit of this conspiracy."

"Neither have mine," the pale Dalatrass said, taking a deep breath before looking directly into Nizen's eyes, and declaring. "It was either the Turians themselves, or… _or it is Erlana_. Looking for a final excuse to blame your clan and begin hostilities, and eliminate _both_ of us; either of fear or petty revenge. You know very well that, while not vocally opposing to Erlana's wishes, we do not bend so easily to her designs."

"I believe it to be it such a thing too." Nizen this time lied through her teeth, while amusing herself inside her thoughts. ' _Oh Azena, I wonder where you got such ideas from…_ '

Azena nodded, and finally said. "I want to change the Vaerdall situation, Nizen; this has continued for far too long. The Salarians will be brought to _ruin_ should we not take this matter into our hands. Even if it is not her who is the true instigator of this situation, the galactic nations will think us to have grown complacent and weak, and I will _not_ jeopardize _my_ bloodline for the inaction of others; whether it is our suzerain or not. Even _secession_ will be preferable than the current political quagmire she will lead us into. Despite what I said earlier, I prefer to be split than to be destroyed."

Nizen extended her hand, and Azena only took it after a fleeting, almost imperceptible, moment of hesitation. "Then we are together once more Azena, our ancestral Dalatrasses will be proud."

"For our clans." the yellow Salarian dared to say.

" _For us._ " Nizen finished, in a much more assertive tone.

* * *

 _Imperial Palace, Terra._

The bedroom was only lit by the bedside lamps, everything was in a soft yellow hue. The white curtains hid the moonlight from the interiors, but helped to reflect the dim lighting.

"And then, after getting drunk on your drinks and Asari wine, you two fucked?"

" _Yes, Andromeda_." Constantine sighed, sitting on the edge of the mattress removing his shoes, while Andromeda unbuttoned his shirt from behind. "And you know _very well_ that I do not like to talk about that."

" _But I do_. You know I delight myself in this situation." She all-too-happily answered.  
"I wonder why," he said sarcastically, while lying on the bed beside her. "This was Jack's idea, you know, not mine."

"Dad always knows what's best," She said, proving his point, before thinking out loud. "I think, that the best part, is that she won't ever have any part of you, except perhaps a bastard."

" _Christ…_ " he laughed at the cruel words.

"But it is true!" She beamed at him, golden hair spread on the pillow. "You're mine; in this life and in the next. I remember when we were in the boarding school, the other girls fumed with rage that _I_ was going to be Princess Consort."

"Yeah, those were the days, I remember when we'd run away with my car on the weekends, going to Rome, Ibiza, or even Munich; and your mom, and the royal guards, would want to skin me alive after."

"I miss her." She replied after some moments of silence. "Despite the entire overbearing parenting. I can only hope I'm not the same with Marcel…"

"Nah, you're just, _fine_ …" Constantine joked, receiving a playful pinch on the arm.

"So…how's it going to be? Human style, flying a ship into one of their systems like clumsy jerks? Or the subtle and classy Elysian way, with semi-autonomous small and well-designed probes?" She asked, directing her impossibly blue stare to him, despite her eyes not shining as much out of daylight; the mirth was barely contained in her voice.

"We're _not_ jerks _,_ " the man answered sharing her humor, turning on his side to face her. "But ironically, we're going to meet them with ships, yeah."

" _I told you so_."

Silence followed again, until Constantine broke it. "Perhaps you're right, it might seem a bit strange to show up with a ship out of nowhere coincidentally on one of their systems, out of the hundreds in the vicinity. But to be honest? I'm too stressed from all of this stuff to care right now, maybe I'll discuss this with my father tomorrow." He moved to lay on his back, putting his hands behind his head on the pillow, staring into the ceiling again. "Now, I just want to relax."

"Let me take care of that."

Later that night, Andromeda would prove, with kisses and caresses, together with scratches, the truth of her previous assertions. When all lights are out, and you cannot trust your sight anymore, only memory born out of intimacy, and the other senses, to find your way into someone's arms.

 _She always won in the end._

* * *

 _Virtual Combat Arena, Mars Naval Academy._

Admiral Erwin paced ahead of his chair, looking through his viewports on the displayed data. Contacts, force disposition, emissions both radioactive and infrared. His gray uniform was perfectly aligned, the four silver stripes on his shoulder announced his rank to all onlookers.

In the void outside, four Jupiter classes stood at the center of the formation, ahead, 32 Crusadercruisers formed a cushion of more intense firepower protecting their immediate flanks, and surrounding the cruisers, 96 Fencer frigates provided true AA clouds; and as their name suggested specialized stand-off weaponry.

Looking up from the pits, a Lieutenant spoke to the man. "Sir, we estimate around 200 contacts 1.5 light-seconds away, the enemy constellation approaches at flank speed; possible dreadnought-classes are optically hidden by clustered escorts. ETA to merge with our fleet is one hour and a half. Their profiles match Vaerdall designs."

"All ships hold position, order _Orion_ and _Subjugator_ to begin initial torpedo harassment on cruiser grade targets, we cannot lance their dreadnoughts if they do not evade. Ninety six missiles each."

"Aye aye, sir!" the man answered, returning his focus back to the console.

Outside, the two aforementioned white capitals opened their lateral launch tubes, and for two seconds, everything stood still.

In sequence, the Sunburn ship-to-ship missiles were ejected from their tubes together with the cold propellant gas, reflecting the light coming from the star much like their bright white parent vessels.

With machinery perfection, their maneuver thrusters ignited briefly, adjusting the guided weapons orientation, followed by the primary boosters lighting up. Their systems quickly networked with the fellow missiles, spacing themselves out while boosting to avoid accidental collisions.

The mass of torpedoes began their flight forward, carrying potent Orillium warheads.

The men watched several new bright yellow stars appearing and growing distant and dim on the void.

"Time to impact, around 30 minutes. Their GARDIAN PD systems are estimated to begin effective interception at around 80 thousand kilometers, we'll have some 320 seconds in terminal approach." another officer said, as Erwin sat back on his chair, directing the information display back to his own screens.

"Kill probabilities?"

"They utilize state-of-the-art fire-control systems and sensors, together with UV laser point defense, trading fire rate for interception range and slight improvements in damage dealt, albeit inferior to kinetic projectiles; missile interceptors are unknown of.

"Huh…all factors accounted for, including our missiles capabilities and possible malfunction…the computer gives between five and ten percent of kill probability." the officer paused, checking his monitor again before finishing, meeting the eyes of his commander. "Even if none hit, the uncertainty of our true targets given the terminal maneuvers will make a significant portion of contacts engage defensive, specifically the ones clustered. Another follow-up attack with all our munitions from _all_ our vessels, launched now for example, would saturate their PD enough to rise the percentage to 45%."

The man smirked, before staring ahead again, and ordering. "Record these stats. Order all vessels to remain on formation and fire all torpedoes!"

"Aye aye, sir!" The officers, both the ones responsible for communication and weapons control replied.

A second barrage, this time orders larger than the first emerged from the ships. Missile after missile left its launch tube, performing the same correction maneuvers and igniting their initial boosters.

The number of guided weapons on the way now numbered well into the thousands.

Every ship, escort or capital, fired their remaining anti-ship guided ordinance in a massive volley. Nearly seven thousand missiles gained the void, dashing against their targets.

Doom to any upstart Navy without competent PD, but GARDIANs were, either IR or UV, _the best_ system one could find in Citadel Space and on Terminus alike.

The seconds rolled by, the first launched missiles discarded their spent solid-fuel boosters, igniting their Helios thruster modules on their final stage.

One missile turned on its tadar panel, designating terminal approaches on their targets for the other torpedoes. Scanning with accuracy every inch of the opposing vessels, and forwarding the information through its datalink with the launcher platform.

Soon enough, as they reached the maximum range for the GARDIAN turrets, they began to blow up sporadically, or fly into random an erroneous trajectories. The UV lasers mounted on the Salarian ships intercepted the approaching weapons with absolute accuracy, the actual lasers being completely invisible to the naked eye save for the small portion of energy lost as emitting photons; targeting and communication suites were destroyed, engines melted, or fuel tanks ignited.

Deadly fireworks of bright orange and purple painted the heavens.

Only one minute was left until impact, their targets wasted no time in maneuvering away from the projectiles that remained.

Only three cruisers and a handful frigates were destroyed in the first volley, traditional aquatic Salarian design turning into slag against the potent warheads. Unlike disruption torpedoes launched by Citadel navies' fighters, the orillium warheads had to be encased in gases, to effectively deal damage if the missile does not penetrate the enemy hull, or if the internal atmosphere of the targeted vessel is contained during combat.

The highly compressed oxygen worked as a pocket atmosphere, transferring the pressure and heat generated by the blast into the materials in contact with the many cubic meters of gas.

Destroying the vessels wasn't their objective, however. Their fleet was obliged to engage in a general defensive maneuver, especially the impossibly tight clustered ships that hid the dreadnoughts; a sharp contrast with the rest of the formation, where ships were kilometers and kilometers apart, effectively impossible to distinguish or spot at naked eye.

"Tadar contacts!" Shouted a sensor officer on the _Krishna_ 's bridge. "Ten battleship-sized vessels just appeared, you were right after all, sir!"

"All capitals, tachyon lance fire at dreadnought class vessels, _full power_." Came the order.

From inside their hulls, the turrets began to emerge, rising from their sheltered spaces into the void. The telescope-like weapons trained their 'cannons', no wider than a 400mm battery muzzle, at their targets.

"Beginning singularity…reaction chamber full. All targets tracked sir, awaiting your order."

" _Fire."_

The exotic particles left their singularity chambers, the yurantic crystals reflected the beam through the compartment into the 'barrel', going through a final corrective lens before gaining the void.

Four bright green beams suddenly and instantly, in the crew's perception, made into space; their emitted green light bathed the bridges of the human fleet.

The tachyons are both a particle and an electromagnetic wave, much like photons themselves, but they were inherently faster-than-light, given their extra-dimensional origin. As such, they had an effective range beyond the 'limit' of a light second.

Much like at the beginning of the Universe, when it is speculated that photons flew faster than today, the tachyons lost insignificant amounts of energy as fast photons, faster than their modern peers.

The beams crossed 450K km way faster than any eye could follow.

The EM shielding of the Salarian dreadnoughts was paper thin when put against such weaponry. Only a meager 4 megatons of equivalent energy could be absorbed by the invisible shields enveloping the four targeted dreadnoughts, shields that instantly vanished in bright white light, as the particles crashed into them.

The remaining 16 Mt simply vanquished anything resembling a ship. The scene could only be watched in complete detail in extremely slow motion cameras.

The impact point was less than a meter in diameter. However, the area surrounding the point of impact, whose immediate atomic bonds were severed, was ignited and turned into plasma promptly by the abysmal influx of energy, complementing the sudden and brutal transformation, enough energy was transferred as sufficient kinetic energy to shatter the ship's superstructure.

The rest of the parts not outright into the fourth state of matter, as less and less energy was gradually absorbed by the metal, overheated like ice under the sun; turning into liquid fire and slag exploding outwards much like the plasma itself. The internal atmosphere all but ignited, as if a giant thermobaric bomb.

The Eezo core was no more, but a mass of radioactive slag.

Plasma, electrically charged molten metal, and white hot shrapnel the size of skycars were propelled in a deadly cloud, hitting the same escorting ships that hid the dreadnought from vision.

The smaller ships hadn't distanced themselves more than fifty kilometers from their parent, when deadly shrapnel sparsely hit them.

Some, the nimble frigates, were unlucky enough to have their shields overloaded, and be subsequently crippled by the insanely hot plasma and slag.

Not taking his eyes from the fed information on his screen, a weapons officer said out loud to Erwin. "Weapons room reports that lance heat levels are at 100% and decreasing, they are sending the cooling liquids constantly, the next expected volley will be available about 40 minutes from now."

"No need for a second shot," one sensor technician said from across the pit, without taking his eyes from the console either. "We had a good effect on target, visual cameras, albeit light-lagged indicate absolute destruction of engaged contacts. Tadar indicates that their fleet is engaged in general sub-light retreat, FTL retreat is expected as soon as they can organize in a meaningful manner."

"Excellent, just as previous simulations have shown. _"_ He nodded, before his thoughts were interrupted.

 _"SIMULATION COMPLETE."_ Said the artificial voice inside their heads.

* * *

" _PRIORITY ONE USERS TRANSFERRED TO DEBRIEFING PHASE._ " The voice resounded again.

Erwin, together with the rest of the crew, was slowly and gently pulled from their conscious states. His vision slowly began to blur into white, the taste of his own mouth along with his smelling sense faded into nothingness. Vision, hearing, and tact were maintained to give a sort of familiarity with the extra-corporeal connection.

He was once again into the familiar gray expanse, visiting it many times during his graduation at the Academy, his 'being' occupying nothing more than a simplified beige projection of a humanoid body, faceless and featureless.

Sky and ground merged in the horizon, concepts of altitude or distance became blurry and illogical in the debriefing sub-simulation routine.

Materializing beside him were the captains of the other capitals. Or at least, their consciousness.

" _It was productive,"_ one of the humanoids began. _"However, I still have doubts whether they would retreat so early on the battle. Maybe an error of probability, or perhaps strategy, by the simulator? A more…aggressive…commander would have pressed on the numerical advantage._ " _Viel-Ésan's_ Captain commented promptly, as he noticed the other projections at the 'chat-room'.

 _Orion's_ commanding officer begged to differ. " _You mean an irresponsible commander, instead of aggressive._ _They just lost four capital ships instantly, to 5_ _th_ _dimensional weaponry, at ranges they understand to be even beyond that of stand-off engagements; any sane commander, or one worth his rank, would retreat immediately; that is, if the enemy force isn't outright decapitated in the initial attack._ "

" _True, that was our line of approach at the beginning of the GIW to minimize our losses as you all recall. Our own UDSs were at their infancy then, we had no way of standing up in equal force projection to Yërun capitals._ " _Subjugator's_ commander joined the conversation.

" _Indeed,"_ Erwin agreed. _"I took some of my free time to review other recorded simulations. Simulator, please, display the condensed stats of the mentioned simulations; including the commentaries made by other users."_

 _"VALIDATING…QUERY VALID…ACCESSING USER 3845945-RD PERSONAL ARCHIVES…DISPLAYING REQUESTED DATA FILES."_ The digital voice answered.

Once the data was displayed before the featureless humanoids, they gathered before the panels and the one representing Erwin motioned at the files. _"Those have been the most logical conclusions reached by fellow officers: They'll ultimately commit capital ships only to the most crucial of battles, and without doubt outnumbering our own whenever possible by large margins. Given that, besides the Salarians, Citadel navies have no defense against directed energy weaponry, they will not be able to afford losing such a strategic asset in virtually every engagement. High Command expects our fleets to be met with swarms;_ swarms _of cruisers and frigate analogues, instead. It is speculated that the potential OPFOR fleets might deploy starfighter carriers to strike at our own formations standoff range. However, such engagements have yet to take place on the Arena, as such, we can only speculate."_

 _"Agreed."_ Two of them said in unison.

" _Given the newly presented information, I can see the reason behind the decision taken by the simulator,"_ his speech took another tone, mirthful, as he voiced his other thoughts. _"I pray, however, that we meet a less rational and sensible approach by enemy commanders. Splashing multiple capitals and numerous escorts on our first real battle would be fantastic for our battle records! Not to mention the damage dealt to their war effort."_

The other projections laughed together with him. _"Don't you tell me that being granted a promotion, and an Iron Cross with Golden Laurels, wasn't enough for you?"_

 _"We can become Governors, probably even be elected Senators, if we ever bid ourselves after retirement, you know? I mean, we handled First Contact already!"_

 _"Let's be modest here lads, our only merit was not vaporizing their science ship on sight. In other words, merely following our orders."_

 _"…You're such a killjoy."_

 _"Fear not. They do not have the Arenas to simulate their engagements_ _on their heads_ _, isn't it computer? They'll have to learn it the hard way,_ _with inaccurate projections and lost ships_ _…"_

 _"FURTHER AND BEYOND, COMMANDER. DO YOU WISH TO LOG THIS DEBRIEFING INTO THE COMMON DATABASE?"_

 _"Yes, please. It might become useful to the common data compilation; add my previous commentaries as well."_

* * *

 _"USER '3845945-RD' CONNECTION TO MAINFRAME TERMINATED."_ The voice sounded one more time through his mind.

He slowly awakened from his slumber, regaining the feelings of his actual flesh, the tingling of numbness on his limbs slowly faded, as he began to move his body.

The 3m tall water tank was filled with green breathable liquid; he had long suppressed the initial panic one felt when their lungs were filled with water, part of the training of any personnel enlisted in any emergency or armed service.

He wore only the issued gray boxer underwear, made from an impermeable synthetic materiel he never bothered to learn the name.

Connecting him to the supercomputer that was the entire facility, a silver thin crown around his head connected to a cable to the tank's top. Analyzing his mental inputs, and returning the simulated responses.

Both from the actual combat simulation, but also what his body should be feeling and looking like.

The biological fluid crafted by Exo-Geni corporation was a direct analogue to the Yërun designs, a literal gift of the time when the young Human and Elysian states, "state" in the latter case, were under oversight by the ancient and stagnant empire.

The diminutive bacteria in the oxygen rich liquid helped in the adaptation of the lungs to receive oxygen through water instead of air, also facilitating the electrical interaction between the supercomputer and the brain of the user.

His vision focused again, he saw through the glass of the tank the medics and technicians outside, working on their terminals and other checking on them with tablets at their hands, time staring at the device time on their aquariums.

Through the green liquid, he could also make the shapes of the other containers, with his fellow commanders recovering from their own connections.

His tank was slowly drained of the liquid, and he removed the metallic ring from around his head as he began to settle down on the tank's bottom.

As the water was drained completely, he begun flexing his fingers and muscles, his toes and knees, not out of discomfort but simply out of habit after the experience. The bad taste in his moth from the liquid remained, however.

The frontal glass panels unsealed with an audible hiss; he stepped outside being met by a medic.

"You know doctor, I'll never lose that ominous feeling that this time, that _this particular time_ while I'm connected to it, I will never wake up." Erwin commented as he faced the bald man, hair glued to his face as he dripped in the liquid, looking more like a test tube experiment than a human being.

" _Nonsense,"_ the man quickly replied without looking up from his tablet. "This has never happened, not even when we received the blueprints, the problem is that everyone got scared about it. Elysian alarmist media be damned."

He snorted at the so called 'reassurance'. "Yeah, tell that to someone consciously dreaming while immersed in green goo. So, everything's ok, aside from primal fears of death?"

"Yes, Admiral. Neural responses accurate with all subjects, the fleet personnel experienced no out-of-sync events neither natural rejections to the artificial input, as expected." The man smirked, before continuing with a different expression from the neutral professional one, this time he appeared to be entertained. "And the explosions were beautiful; watching you guys at the simulations is like watching a different war movie every time. _Incredible_ realism."

The man smiled, looking to the interfaces, as if appraising a well-built car. "The computer is solid. Best thing we got from the Forerunners if you ask me. A shame it's so expensive…how many kilometers of stelarite wiring, again?"

" _Don't ask._ You'll be writing letters to the senate about 'irresponsible spending' when you know it; we don't build more of them beyond the current ones, anyway. Well, everything is finished with your group, please, follow the nurses to the adjacent room; the showers and clothing will be at your disposal there, once you're done, feel free to go to one of the mess halls for solid food and refreshment."

"Yeah, the usual drill. I hope to not be here so soon however, no offense, but the liquid is just _awful_." He grimaced, leaving the room.

* * *

The Virtual Combat Arenas could, at maximum capacity, hold five hundred thousand individuals logged in into the same simulation or, more frequently, on different simulations.

Mess Halls, much like in starships, were divided between enlisted and officers. The walls were colored in silver from the metal, the ground was plain gray from the smooth concrete. Long tables of metal held hundreds of people eating, the sound of their chattering filled Erwin's ears.

Arenas were always integrated with the largest military academies on the surface, Naval and Army alike.

They were, similarly to the Omega and Alfa complexes on Terra, large underground complexes consisting basically of an enormous supercomputer many kilometers in size on to which the thousands of connection tanks were attached through the stelarite wiring. The only material capable to lossless transmission of complex and fast neural impulses on the scope that the simulations required.

Needless to say, their total cost is astronomical. After all, it was for all intents and purposes a true archology.

Erwin sat on the bench with his tray, deeply enjoying his orange juice, savoring the solid food. He was dressed in the usual white pants, shirt, and shoes, common to the after sessions of being logged in the simulators; his hair was still half dried and messy after the shower.

His tray held scrambled eggs, cooked beans, colorful vegetables, and a fish fillet. Accompanied with a glass of natural orange juice, and a green apple, as dessert.

The only distinction between him and the other scores of officers was his name and user number written in black on the front of his shirt.

"Hey, Erwin, still hating the connective liquid?"

Erwin's yellow eyes shot up, meeting mirthful crimson orbs.

"You bet," the newly promoted Admiral raised his juice glass in mock toast, returning the smirk. "So, how did your sim go, Erik?"

The man, Erik, had bright red hair, equally wet; dressed in the same clothing as Erwin, obviously with a different registration number. He sat in front of Erwin on the long metal table.

Different from Erwin, he had a watermelon juice on his glass.

Two stacked stakes, beans and white rice, vegetables both Elysian and from Terra, french fries and an extra portion of pudding made up for the contents of his lunch. The volume of food on the tray made Erwin raise his eyebrows.

"Marine landing," he answered, and explained the food, upon seeing the look his friend gave him. "I'm four days logged in, man. _Four days_. I think I can eat the entire menu here, the liquid keeps you alive but hungry."

Erwin cracked a grin. " _Damn,_ four days, they're expecting something aren't they?"

"Who?"

"High Command, you imbecile," he jokingly insulted. "Who else?"

" _Ah…_ they always are expecting something." the man then snorted. "Even when we spend a century with nothing but asteroids as real targets."

"You should see when we lanced their capital ships, turned into plasma on the spot. The Arena retreated immediately."

"It's a shame it can't simulate morale for the opposing force." The man lamented.

"Sometimes I sort of get the impression the Arenas are AIs, even knowing they're not; I mean, they fight too smartly in complex environments."

"Not smartly enough. It cannot mimic perfectly the human behavior. It simply uses the prediction algorithms like the ones in targeting computers."

"What would even guarantee that the intelligence would behave like a human?"

"Like I'm supposed to know. Artificial intelligence research outside of insulated networks is forbidden, and I'm just an admiral. By the way, how was First Contact really like?" He then assumed a conspiratorial tone. "And the aliens themselves?"

A puzzled look graces the brunet's face. "I was on INN and on a dozen of Elysian talk shows, were you under a rock or something?"

"Cut that shit, you barely gave any info on INN and was eaten alive by those women on the other channels." That earned an annoyed look from Erwin, which Erik promptly ignored. "Give me the _real deal_. What were they like?"

"Like they _always_ are, man. ' _We hope for whatever and whatever with your people. I'm happy that yada, yada, yada._ '. And so on, same practiced speech, didn't bother to listen. The girl came looking like she was out of a lab or something, I watched through the cameras as they met with a Commonwealth diplomat and an MID officer. Both of them though the dude was a diplomat, even sucked up his made up name; Flavius Carter Alvarez."

Erik laughed together with Erwin shaking his head and then spoke no more, eating silently together with his friend.

"…So, how does it finally feel? To be an Admiral?" Erik couldn't keep his mouth shut for long.

"Well, you had me beat by some years, _unfathomably."_ The brunet commented, earning a smug smirk from his friend. "But it feels nice, I just hope not to be deployed for long."

" _You wish_." the redhead snorted. "It's obvious why the recruits aren't using the sim, man. We're going to intervene militarily in…something…soon enough. And guess why you're here, superstar?"

" _Yeah_ , damn this whole situation." Erwin sulked, foreseeing the long months ahead.

Erik couldn't help but keep talking. "See the bright side, you rose up in pay-grade…"

* * *

 _Intersection between Complex Alfa and Complex Omega, Terra._

Jack walked through the corridors of the upper administrative levels of the agencies, being greeted by respectful nods instead of salutes.

Women and men alike in business suits populated these halls and offices, tracking and analyzing nearly everything, like an all seeing eye.

Much like the symbol on a wall of his personal office. The same symbol that accompanied reports and official statements by the agencies, standing at the top of the pages together with the symbol of either the MID or the FSB.

In black and white; a triangle frame, representing much things, with the all-seeing eye filling the inside of the frame, a banner in a semi circle above it, ' _Novus Ordo Seclorum_ ' written on it.

The door to the same office swished open, after Jack turned many corridors and had taken many elevators.

He stepped inside, as the door closed behind him.

He quickly proceeded to discard his watch on the drink table near the sofa and armchairs. The office's wall flatscreens stood turned off.

He moved towards his desk. Well maintained furniture, made of English oak.

He sat, turning on the computer and quickly accessing the network.

He shut down all lights, except for the small lamp on his desk. His face and torso was suddenly obscured, he adjusted his image with the computer camera so that the only part of him lit were his hands and wrists.

His suit was black, his shirt was white, it could be seen on his wrists. He intertwined his fingers, and the old gold wedding ring stood out from his skin.

The connection was made with the AES _Intruder_.

"Miss Laevidas, I heard you had a proposition to me." He said.

Antilia Laevidas stood together with Spectre Nyava Iremi. Jack could see the visible discomfort in her face.

"Indeed, Mr…?"

"Illusive Man."

"Huh, right. Hum, Mr. Illusive Man-"

Jack chuckled at the cartoonish addition of Mr. "Just Illusive Man will do. But go ahead."

She nodded. " _Ah_ , ok then. Well, I'm sure you know about my situation, sir. Given that, I'm pretty sure that you will not let me roam free after…well, after you finish what you're doing. It'd be too much of a security risk, I imagine-"

"Yes indeed, it would." Jack interrupted. "And you are correct to assume we would not let you go."

" _Yes._ " She visibly swallowed. "Huh, my homeworld, I'm sure it is in my file, is notorious for it's active participation on the Unification War. Which I'm sure you sir have read about?"

"Yes, I have. Go on." Jack answered, with an unseen smirk.

"Well, we obviously lost that war, but the sentiment is still there. It is one of the reasons, adding to the pile, that I deserted my boot-camp and fled military service." She explained. "I think I need to be honest with you Illusive Man, I did not read fully the books that were on my cell; I imagine they explain core concepts about your people, so I have neither sympathy or animosity towards you or your causes. But I cannot _stand_ being in prison anymore. Not after the Yari camp."

Jack laid his palms on the table, ring glinting. "Let me guess, you will subvert these movements and proto-separatist groups to our designs, and in turn we let you go free?"

"Yes. That is the truth." She confirmed. "It is selfish, _petty_ , but for the past years of my life, I cared only for myself, my father, and my comrades. I never cared for what Palaven wanted." Her mandible movement indicated resignation, if Jack had interpreted Turian physiology correctly. "My men are dead, my father probably thinks I'm dead too, and I don't want to die on a prison without seeing him once again; whether it is for him to slap me and tell me I'm a _failure_ , or to reconcile with me. I just _need_ to see him one last time."

' _A_ _Turian_ _asset could do very well for us.'_ The man thought.

Minutes of silence passed, as Jack evaluated the possibilities and risks. "Very well, Miss Laevidas. In exchange for your cooperation, and future services, we accept your offer. After we retrieve you father from the Citadel, we'll drop you on your homeworld; or perhaps you both. But make no mistake, _we'll be in contact._ "

Her eyes shone, and before she could reply a heartfelt 'thank you', the man cut the feed.

The triangular symbol appeared for two seconds, with a human eye inside boring into her, and an alien script above it. And then it faded to black again.

Despite the anti-climatic conversation, the reality that she was going to see and talk to her father again hit her; she began to laugh, tears of joy escaping her from her eyes as she mentally thanked her lucky spirits.

* * *

 _AES Intruder_ , _Captain's quarters._

 _"What?"_ was all the ISF Sergeant could muster.

 _"_ You heard me, Werner, Ms. Laevidas here has brokered a deal with TIM. We'll retrieve her father and let the man know his daughter is safe, and in turn she'll infiltrate her homeworld separatist movement for us once official First Contact." Nyava explained.

"This is _dangerous_ , the man works at the Citadel." The man warned.

"So do Asari Spectres and some Commando detachments. We got the situation under control. Obviously, we're not going to dock at the Citadel."

Werner looked upon Antilia, who sat at one of the room's recliners together with Nyava without the orange handcuffs, and pointed a finger at her. "You're risking a lot girl, but know something, now you're not a simple prisoner anymore, now we _own_ you. We tell you to jump, you will ask how high; we ask you to kiss a Hanar and you'll ask which tentacle. You've sold your soul, and there's no coming back from this. You fail, and I'll remove each and every scale of your body _myself_."

He waited a moment to drive the message across, before suddenly leaving, without asking for dismissal from the supposed superior officer.

"He sounded like my Drill Instructor for a moment. Are they _always_ like this?"

The Spectre smiled at the comparison and replied. "No, they're usually more amicable, when not shooting at you, of course."

Silence followed, with Antilia growing more and more uncomfortable on her seat. "…I still can't believe that I'm doing this."

"It's no surprise really, Ms. Laevidas. _You were never a patriot_."

After glaring at Nyava, if only to save face, Antilia muttered. "I'm not going to die for a meaningless cause at some forsaken world at the Traverse fighting whatever pirate group or whoever else. And I _don't_ want to spend the rest of my life on some human prison."

"That's true. But why work actively against your species government?"

"Despite the all the talk about unification and stability, these marks on my face _don't run_." She pointed at her facial tattoos. "We still remember the day when the barefaced Palaveni attacked; I might have made a lot questionable choices, which eventually led to where I am now, but I'm not forgetting why I paint these myself every week."

"You Turians and this _stupid_ feud. That was more than _two thousand years_ ago…"

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay then, folks. Reviews are **greatly** appreciated. Also, that delay sucked, but what can I do? See you next time. Also, if any of you prefer, I accept reviews through my e-mail too: derelicttyrant . So yeah, see ya.


	12. First Contact

**A/N** : So, I have heard you people like first contacts, so here's another one. Review please; they are appreciated.

Also, my thanks to **Xabiar** , this story's beta-reader. He's been essential in this entire process, and this wouldn't be what it is without him.

* * *

 _Imperial Palace, Terra._

The early morning light came through the wide windows as Marcel stood in his white sparring clothes, barefoot, facing his father on the other edge of the tatami. His shoulder length chestnut hair was tied behind his head and he had bandages tightly tied around his ankles and wrists to impede any serious injury to the joints.

He took a step forward, together with Constantine, bowing slightly and shaking hands. Marcel stepped back to his own side, staring intently ahead.

He lunged forward at his father, jumping while sending a kick against the older man's chest. The man in a split-second made an X with his arms, blocking his son's attack.

Marcel retreated as fast as he could, but not fast enough. His father swept his leg through his son's feet; the boy fell hard on the mat.

Facing the ground, he knew his father would soon immobilize him, and win the fight. He reacted quickly.

Doing as expected, Constantine went for a grappling move. He did not expect, however, Marcel's own move.

The boy planted his palms on the tatami, and then lifted himself while spinning. His left foot connected hard against his father's forearm; had the man not been quick, it would have connected instead with his face.

The man was stunned, not from pain, but from genuine surprise at his son's ingenuity.

The boy stabilized himself, utilizing his father's shock to his advantage; he back flipped and landed on the other edge of the mat, back on his feet and turning to face his opponent.

The man recovered from his shock, appraising his son with a large grin. "That was _great_ , Marcel! Where did you learn that?"

The boy returned the grin. "Videogames, I thought I could try it! Got quite lucky, to be honest, dad."

Suddenly, they resumed the spar, father and son engaged in hard attacks and quick defenses.

* * *

The fight and exercises went on and on until mid-day arrived.

Now, both were on the roof of the building, despite Andromeda's protests. The father had obviously a much stronger build than the son did, albeit the boy seemed poised to be a faithful copy of his elder.

Jack's, and by consequence Andromeda's, shrewdness was clear in his eyes, twin icy pools of blue.

The sun was high and bright on the sky; spring finally had arrived in the Northern Hemisphere. The Royal Gardens were full of lush species of trees and plants; even fruitful ones.

"Say, kid, why are we strong?"

Marcel understood that his father wanted to teach him something, and promptly answered. "Our genes, Grandpa Jack told me."

Constantine chuckled. " _That too_. But there's more than just physical strength; we're complex beings after all."

The boy made a puzzled face and questioned. "What else?"

"Knowledge," the elder Valeri explained. "Knowledge frees and empowers."

"And what does that have to do with our strength, dad?"

"Because with sufficient knowledge you can react accordingly to every situation," was the clarification. "Knowing yourself and your enemy, those are the two most important things in a confrontation."

"You mean as in knowing how he fights?"

"That is only _one_ aspect of it, and very specific. I speak broadly; with knowledge, 'A World Without Boundaries' could take over the planet." A servant android arrived, bringing two glasses of water to them as he spoke. "They knew which nations that should harbor the uprising first, which ones needed to stay out of it, which ones to be the last; which individuals to eliminate on the first night, which to send into private bunkers for security, which ones to turn the public hatred towards."

"So, if I know my enemy completely, I have already won?" The boy asked, sipping on his water.

"That's only half of it; you need also to know yourself," the man explained. "Your strengths, your weaknesses, and those of your allies and tools. With that, you will be able to apply your force precisely. In addition, remember; strike first, strike fast, strike hard." He paused briefly. "Say, what _else_ is needed to defend your species and nation?"

The boy adopted his puzzled face once again, trying to find the answer to his father's last question. He then remembered what Jack had told him earlier and recited it to his father. "'We must be selfless, acting in our best interests even if the Galaxy, or even our own, hate us for it; we must become whatever is necessary to ensure we survive and ensure that our sovereignty is maintained. We must never let the morality of others prevent us from doing what is objectively beneficial for us.'"

"You're learning fast," the man said, earning a bright grin from the boy. "Now, go take a shower. If we go around the palace like this, your mom will eat my liver…"

* * *

 _Zeta-Omicron system, Relay 314._

The fifteen-kilometer long construct stood immobile drifting in the void.

A flotilla of ships slowly approached it, clustered far closer than usual; the largest distance between the vessels neared ten kilometers.

They soon positioned themselves parallel to the relay, awaiting the signal.

One of them began to interact with the relay, sending information in a format that was previously completely unfamiliar to human computers.

Many minutes passed, with the fleet in standby for a response.

The relay powered up, reactivating itself, with single full rotation of its ellipses, lights coming to life along the structure.

A single vessel advanced ahead of the formation; 120m in length, outfitted with drones, probes, and satellites for planetary exploration. It was plain white, two golden stripes running along its frame. It bore the name ' _Peregrine'_ in black letters, near its bow.

Its systems exchanged a few words with the relay; the ellipses, which had become static once the relay fully activated, began to spin and accumulate blue electric discharges between themselves.

The _Peregrine_ flew along the length of the relay, being struck by one of the blue bolts. A mass effect corridor opened between the relay and its pair.

The ship shot forward thousands of light years in less than a second. Lights and stars faded from vision, giving place to radiation.

* * *

 _Aralakh system, Operation Lit Fuse._

The _Peregrine_ reappeared on a newly awakened relay, twin to the one on Zeta-Omicron.

The crew of the science ship was entirely composed of MID agents who were traveling under the pretense of a scientific mission, but in reality making official what had already been done behind the backs of the other Council members.

A young analyst's voice broke the silence. "Lieutenant Hill, we have a whopping zero mobile contacts, and there is one remaining station on Tuchanka's orbit. _And_ , we're apparently more than eight thousand light years away from where we were a second ago."

"Insane," the senior officer, going by the code-name " _Edgar Hill_ ", commented. "Okay, our mission is to make first contact with someone and have some chit chat with them. Whoever they are, they'll most likely forward a message to an emergency system and then someone of some importance will come here to talk to us." He paused, looking into the eyes of the crew, and warning them. "We botch this, and we can kiss goodbye to our careers."

"Have we warned the Asari about today?" Someone asked from the back of the bridge.

" _No_ ," another operative answered. "They most likely would want to be the ones to meet us if they knew it. So we'll go in through the shade, we're not their lackeys." He abruptly changed topics. "Does the _station_ know we're here though?"

"No, they do not have FTL sensors," one officer explained. "It will take some two hours until our lagged image reaches them, and even then they need to know where to look in the sky; I doubt they even know there's another relay here."

"Fine, jump near this facility. Let's see if they give us a warm greeting." Hill ordered.

"Yes, sir." Came the reply.

The ship ripped a rift on time-space, entering a new dimension. Then, once the vessel immersed itself in tachyonic matter, it began its acceleration, cruising through the waves of the Dirac Sea at minimal speed; the Keller Field held the super-heated plasma at bay, impeding it from obliterating the ship.

Five minutes later, it reappeared on the vicinity of Tuchanka, the former inhabitable planet that for millennia was home to the Krogan species.

"Status."

"The nearest station seems empty, no signals. No ships docked either."

"Well, it's a dead system." Hill commented, before scratching his beard and asking. "Can _we_ dock on it?"

One crewmember turned from his screen and answered the officer. "I don't know, it has docking ports that are _apparently_ compatible, but I sent some simple radio signals and nothing came back; if there is no one home, the ports won't open. So if you want to go in, you'll have to breach the hull."

" _Damn_ ," the man cursed. "Okay, fine, order the ISF detachment to go and look around for any aliens inside or if they can reactivate any system; if they find anyone, order them to head back here immediately. Extend TADAR sweeps up to thirty light years from this system and order the fleet back home to stand by."

"Yes, sir!" Came the collective response.

* * *

A single MHA-44 closed in on the seemingly abandoned station. The gray, ten kilometer long, construct that had served as a spaceport to the CDEM Space Fleets, now lay silent. No signal or ship left the station.

" _Fireteam Coral, we're going to rendezvous with the station in two minutes, the last hundred meters you'll do in EVA."_ The pilot, call-sign 'Sapphire', said through the comm channel. _"You will have to breach a small sized docking port, and then proceed inside. Lieutenant Hill already explained what you have to do there, but if you can't breach the door with torches, evacuate the area and we'll blast it open."_

 _"Acknowledged, Sapphire,"_ Coral 1 answered, before ordering the rest of the team. " _Pressurize your armor."_

Hisses, akin to snakes, sounded on the passenger compartment, as the soldiers' suits isolated themselves, preserving a natural 1atm air pressure.

Instead of the atmospheric version of their armor, Fireteam Coral wore the exo-atmospheric one.

It differed from its other version by mounting an oxygen tank on their backs, and being fully sealed against the exterior. To enable movement on the micro-gravity environment, small gas thrusters were installed on their forearms and lower legs.

They had magnetic boots and gloves for operations on environments without gravity, natural or artificial.

The face-covering helmet had a tube connecting from the air tank to where would be the atmospheric filter on the ground version of the armor. On the parts that would be their normal fatigues, synthetic compounds made up for the spacesuit protection.

" _We've arrived. We'll begin gradual depressurization of the passenger compartment now."_

 _"Roger, Sapphire."_

The air of the compartment where Coral team stood was directed into a highly pressurized tank on the craft, in order to not waste the gas. Soon enough, a near perfect vacuum was made inside the passenger compartment.

The red light above the door bathed the internal space, tinting the black armor of the Special Forces soldiers. The anti-grav generator slowly turned off the artificial gravity, and the soldiers began to float.

The light turned green.

" _Good luck, Coral."_

" _Appreciated."_

Once the door lowered, the soldiers used their thrusters to navigate outside the black craft. The red planet with fiery clouds and the gray monolith before them occupied greatly their visions. They began their flight towards a rectangular structure protruding from the station.

If they looked up, they could see many more of them, some larger, some smaller.

" _Approaching docking port,"_ Coral 1 said.

The made it to the docking port shortly; then slowing themselves down with their thrusters, expelling thin streams of white gas.

They gently touched down on the structure.

" _Appears to be some kind of tunnel, Sergeant. It seems weird for the station to be on the vertical…_ " One of the soldiers commented.

" _Maybe it is not, and we're the ones facing it wrong._ "

" _Walker_ , _Statnik; proceed to the door at the end and torch a hole for us_." Sergeant Alan Falkner, Coral 1, ordered.

" _Yes, sir._ " Came the quick response.

The two Engineers carried on their hands a simple handheld plasma torch while their M45s were firmly attached to their bodies.

They soon set to work, with the rest of their team behind them. The torches came to life, white hot and nearly blinding. Their tinted helmets, of course, impeded that hazard, much like welding helmets. They left trails of melting metal as they cut a smaller rectangle, wide enough for two people to pass shoulder to shoulder.

" _This is thinner than I expected._ " Walker commented.

A yellow-orange rectangle of molten metal soon glowed in the docking structure.

" _Wlostowic and Radvila, breach the door."_

The two soldiers stepped forward, while the two engineers moved aside, turning off and strapping the torches in their leg pouches, bringing their M45s to their hands. Both of them motioned to kick the newly made entrance, being prepared either to breach the metal, or to be propelled backwards from the kick.

Their feet connected with the metal, pushing the loose slat of metal forward. It hit the opposite wall without sound.

A gush of air began to stream from the gaping hole on the thin bulkhead as the internal pressure attempted to equalize itself with the vast void.

" _Breaching successful._ " Falkner declared. " _We have no schematics of the station, so that will be the first priority; find a working terminal. Turn on your heartbeat sensors; Radvila, Wlostowic, and I will take point, we move left._ "

" _Roger._ " The squad said in unison.

They moved inside the corridors past the inner docking chamber, being large enough for three to walk through.

The many signs in Citadel Common, the written-only script that populated Citadel signs, that could indicate an easier way to navigate the station were lost on them, not possessing the latest and extremely expensive Asari linguistic implants.

Slowly and deliberately moving with weapons in hand, they made their way further into the place, some lights flickered in and out; their heartbeat sensors indicated no life-signs on the vicinity.

However, of course, the heartbeat sensors could only detect life-pulses within a 50m range in closed or urban environments, such as cities themselves or jungles; that range extended to 300m on open terrain or lightwoods.

After some minutes, Falkner commented. " _There are no bodies here. Apparently all the Krogan in this system died on that final nuclear exchange; else they'd have occupied this._ "

" _They'd eventually die out of starvation, there's no way this thing is self-sustainable._ " Engineer Walker commented.

" _I'd prefer to be vaporized in the blasts below._ " Radvila added.

" _As if they had any choice._ "

Turns and long corridors followed, with the engineers writing indications to their entry point on the gray walls with permanent markers, indiscernible alien script to any other onlooker.

" _Bingo!_ " Wlostowic exclaimed, as he spotted at the end of a corridor a large circular room full of terminals.

They quickly rushed to the area, with Statnik and Walker quickly switching from their weapons to their engineer interfaces. The room was depopulated, bare of anything resembling personal belongings of their past operators.

Differing from the Human-Asari Fireteam on the _AES_ Intruder, which Fireteam Coral knew nothing about, the standard ISF squad or Fireteam, as they are called, was a basic 10-man unit.

Six operatives with the Soldier specialization, two Engineers, and two Infiltrators, either operating as a single unit, or two independent cells, whatever fit best the situation, but never operating without any of the three specializations.

The N7 training course marked a new beginning for any personnel from an armed or intelligence service or agency, enrollment came from all institutions; Federal Security Bureau, Main Intelligence Directorate, Imperial Navy and its Marine Corps, Imperial Army, Merchant Marine, or even aspiring civilians.

Some Fireteams had the presence of operatives with medical backgrounds, but with the advent of medi-gel, the casualty rates had dropped abysmally for battle wounds, thus their presence was diminishing at a large pace.

Every direct combat service member carried enough gel for two large applications.

Their weaponry was customized at will, with discretion being given to the commanding Sergeant to assign the weapons used by the team depending on the mission.

From the M25 Pistols to the M212 Sniper Rifle, even the famed M120 'Spear' Compact Length Missile; bringing vehicle-killing firepower to the squad.

Cpl. Wlostowic and Pvt. Radvila, along with Pvt. Trembley Pvt. Marino, having the Soldier specialization, carried M74s. Sgt. Falkner and Cpl. Martín, the last two Soldiers, carried both M80 Light Machine Guns.

The two Engineers, Walker and Statnik, had the basic kit of common tools, which included the compact torch, their datapad interfaces, and C8 demolition charges, along with the M45s.

With solid ammunition not being a concern anymore, and the reduced size of batteries for the DEW weapons, the soldiers could afford to carry more into battle, if they preferred.

Pvt. Grisdale and Pvt. Brandt, the Infiltrators, carried M99 shotguns, along with their own set of Grinder anti-personnel mines.

Graffiti populated the walls around the terminals, many of them resembling what appeared to be a caricature of a white skull and a fist over a red background.

" _Sir, I've uploaded the schematics to our heartbeat sensors, but there are recent changes on the system; authorizations, security, and there's unidentified cargo about thirty levels below._ " Statnik said, without taking his eyes off the datapad.

" _Cargo?_ "

" _As I said, no identification of what it is._ " This time the Engineer looked up.

The Fireteam spread through the circular terminals, watching their own entrance along with the other three corridors that led out of the terminal room.

Trembley exclaimed on the radio, without warning. " _Multiple_ _life signs approaching! 45 meters and closing!"_

 _"Brace for contact!"_ The Sergeant commanded.

With trained motion, the operatives crouched behind the terminals, training their weapons on the four entrances to the room. The two Engineers quickly disconnected from the system, pouching their datapads and bringing up their weapons.

The green circles on their sensors grew ever closer to the ten blue diamonds, turning on corners and speeding on corridors.

Varren upon varren leap from the corners into the corridors following the scent of the soldiers.

As soon as the first animal jumped and ran, a laser fired from Sgt. Falkner's M80 blew up its face. A loud crack of expanding air filled the location, followed by many others, resembling automatic ballistic fire.

The operatives unleashed an incessant hail of fire into the corridors, cutting down the beasts with ease, inflicting gaping bleeding wounds as unprotected flesh was vaporized.

Soon enough, the animals jumped atop the body of their dead fellows to reach the live prize taking cover and firing from the terminal stations.

Not operating on the dark, like Operation Debut or Operation Safeguard, the lasers were invisible to the naked eye. Sunlight and even the much weaker artificial light dwarfed the infinitesimal part of the beam's energy that decayed into visible light.

Focused microwave blasts from the M99s on the hands of the two Infiltrators turned the alien life forms to liquefied mush. The corridors' walls were painted with splashes of red and beige from the amount of blood spilled and flesh melted.

Soon, the one sided firefight was over.

" _Status!_ " Their leader demanded over the radio, while the squad checked their batteries for the remaining power.

" _All contacts eliminated, sir. They were rather sluggish for alien dogs…_ " Radvila answered.

" _Looks like this station isn't abandoned at all. These for sure don't sprout from thin air._ " The commander said, rolling a dead varren with his foot; the head was intact, but it had a gaping hole on the chest, probably caused by one of the M80s by the size of it.

Glancing around the carnage that became the corridors leading to their chamber, the man said finally. " _Let's check that cargo, we're going through the maintenance shafts instead. If there's any sentient here, they'll be guarding the elevators."_

* * *

The downward shafts were long staircases running along the entire station allowing for workers to fix cabling and to access specific interfaces to several internal systems and machineries.

Contrary to the ones that ran horizontally through the station, akin to inner rings, being large enough for a two cars to pass through, allowing the quick transfer of cargo and supplies between the internal hangars, and to resupply the station with consumables and other items.

Both of them now provided the operatives an alternative infiltration entrance to the level where the unspecified cargo was located.

The lighting was dim; red lights on the ceiling replaced the white ones of the common rooms and corridors.

The infiltrating humans quickly ran through the inner circular passages ignoring the maglev carts that ran through two sets of rails in directions opposite to each other. They were not sure if anyone with access to the system could detect if those carts were turned on and moving, or if they could not.

Therefore, for the sake of stealth, they refrained from using them.

Not that the human squad took too long in moving across the station on foot, in no time they were ready to bypass the normal elevators and enter the principal corridors again. They stopped before a door, which opened after Walker typed a command on his datapad and entered the outer room quickly.

It was a simple storage room, an interior warehouse of sorts. Machinery, tools, and crates were scattered along the walls and the floor.

" _Alright,_ " Sergeant Falkner said, once he was inside the warehouse, as the black armored men gathered around him in a circle. " _This room has several corridors and hallways leading to other storage areas and one central warehouse in which apparently this cargo is contained. Now, this cargo is recent, as indicated by the logs._ "

" _That means someone used this place recently, and probably brought the hounds with them._ "

" _Exactly,_ " The man agreed. " _It also signifies that this 'someone' might still be here. We're here to make contact with them. We'll approach through two vectors; Radvila, Martín, Trembley, Grisdale, and Walker, you take the upper levels and assume firing positions on the catwalks. The rest of you will come with me through the main entrance on the floor_."

" _Roger, sir_." Came the responses.

After weaving their way through the corridors leading to the main warehouse, both teams were at their respective doors. " _We're detecting multiple life signs inside, Sergeant_."

" _We too; do not enter yet, I've got an idea_." The Sergeant turned to Statnik and asked the Engineer. " _Any live cameras inside?_ "

" _Yes, I'm accessing them right now_." The Private replied, before turning his datapad to his superior. " _Twenty Vorcha armed with rifles and shotguns, multiple Salarians, Asari, and Turians utilizing some instruments and materials and interacting with these terminals. Their feet are bound to these chains on the ground_."

" _Looks like a makeshift lab, and kidnapped scientists. Perfect_." The man commented to himself, before ordering. " _Walker, you turn off the lights inside. Corporal Radvila's, once the lights are off, you and your team will slowly take position above them; once you are ready, drop flash bangs on the area. Once the Vorcha are stunned, open fire and eliminate them quickly. Then, once things calm down, we are going to turn the lights on again and go in through the ground. Everyone understood?_ "

" _Roger, sir_."

It happened swiftly: the lights inside went out without warning, eliciting growls and shouts from the Vorcha, who angrily inquired what happened. Their reactions confirmed what Falkner suspected; the lack of night vision, either by equipment or through natural means.

The scientists were equally confused, but none uttered a word, in fear of angering even more their captors.

An upper door opened, leading to catwalks, which in turn led to a suspended office. Five ISF operatives silently infiltrated the warehouse using the darkness as cover, positioning themselves along the catwalks in different locations.

During the ruckus that the confused aliens were causing, none heard the small metallic objects pinging across the floor.

Several bright flashes of light appeared together with deafening thunder, as if lightning went off inside the closed area. Mercenary and scientist alike fell to the floor disorientated, with eyes watering from sudden light, their hands clutching their auditory organs that heard nothing but sharp ringing.

None of them saw the red beams that methodically killed the armed Blood Pack henchmen five at a time. Not ten seconds after the stun grenades went off, all Vorcha lay dead, with large bleeding holes on their chests; product of repeated laser beams to unprotected skin. The two Infiltrators switched from their microwave shotguns to their pistols to avoid bathing the scientists in gore.

" _Area clear, Sergeant_."

" _Good work, everybody. Now let's make an entrance_."

The lights turned on at the same time the door opened, and the ground team swiftly moved inside the makeshift laboratory.

The scientists, slowly regaining their bearings, noticed that their captors were dead, and there were armed beings on the floor and on the catwalks above them.

They panicked. Ushering themselves together as close as the chains allowed and taking whatever instruments or objects they perceived that could be used for self-defense, not realizing the futility of their actions.

The ISF operatives stood spread through the benches, staring with humor and curiosity at the aliens through their black helmets.

" _Kill any remaining Vorcha; take their weapons and any valuable items: kinetic barrier emitters, omni-tools, and anything you identify as being technological_."

" _There's ten or so scientists, Sarge_." Corporal Martín, up in the catwalks, said through the squad's comm channel, the one not broadcasted through the speakers in their helmets.

" _Scared shitless too, look at that Salarian, he's with a syringe_!" Wlostowic said while laughing together with his squad members as they rummaged through the bodies of the dead Vorcha.

" _Keep your cool everyone, this is an important moment_. _Do not fire on them._ " The commanding officer said, while setting his weapon on the ground and raising his hands in what he assumed to be a non-threatening manner.

He pressed a button on his helmet, behind his ear, setting his helmet to broadcast his voice aloud.

" _We come in peace,"_ He began.

" _They only wish…"_ One of the operatives snorted in their internal channel.

" _Please lower your weapons_." His voice had the distinctive sound spoken through speakers, different from the natural one.

" _I don't think a 1.9m tall being, armed to the teeth and clad in all-black armor, speaking through a helmet will sound reassuring, not that they can understand you by the way…just saying_." Grisdale commented.

" _Cheeky, but he's right, Sarge_. _We look as menacing as possible_." Walker agreed.

With a gruff murmured response, the man depressurized his armor with a hissing sound, and then removed his helmet.

His hair was short and deep black, his eyes were green and emotionless as he stared at the panicked aliens ahead of him.

The aliens gasped and analyzed with interest and curiosity his face, looking to their Asari companions and making whispered comments in their varied languages, probably reaching to the same conclusions the _Star Crescent's_ crew reached, upon meeting the Imperial Navy on Relay 314.

Falkner repeated his greeting. "We're soldiers of the Interstellar Aryan Empire, we come in peace. Please lower your weapons and we'll free you."

His clear and firm voice sparked the academic interest in the scientists even more, who now openly stared and commented aloud.

"Walker, Statnik, free these people." The commander ordered, eyeing both of the soldiers. "They are clearly more interested in gossiping about us than actually _communicating_ with us."

" _Right away, Sarge."_ Walker replied, before leaping from the catwalk.

He fell suddenly and loudly atop the metal floor, startling the scientists, one of the Asari even squealed.

They holstered their M45s and produced their plasma torches from one of their pouches, approaching the chains with intent.

" _This is what I call good PR, Sergeant_."

As they turned on their torches, the group of chained aliens tensed, but soon realized their intents and relaxed. Quickly, all the metal chains that bound the scientists were molten, and the aliens themselves were freed.

The two Engineers retreated to their squad mates, and both groups returned to stare at each other.

The Sergeant slowly approached the scientists and extended his right hand. The aliens hesitated for a second, whispering more among themselves.

They quickly reached a consensus; three beings belonging to the three Council races stepped forward.

Slowly and warily, but firmly, each one of them took the man's hands with their own. Some with scared faces, others with resolution, or even a friendly smile.

The officer pointed a finger at his chest and said. "Human."

"Asari," One of the scientist said, repeating the gesture, and then pointing at her colleagues. "Salarian, Turian."

Falkner smiled before putting his helmet back on. " _Peregrine, we have encountered civilians from the three Council races on the station along with Vorcha hostile elements. We have neutralized all threats, but the civilians appear to be captives. Awaiting instructions, over."_

 _"…Acknowledged Coral, stand by."_ Not long after, they received a response. " _Fireteam Coral, Lieutenant Hill orders you to bring the civilians aboard. If they do not comply, you have authorization to use non-lethal force. He also orders you to seize control of one of the docking ports, to allow for easy transport of the civilians, over."_

 _"Roger, Peregrine, expect word within the next thirty minutes, out."_ The Sergeant then turned to his subordinates and asked. " _So, you heard the man,_ _any ideas on how to convince them to come with us?"_

 _"Set guns to stun and carry them unconscious to the ship."_ The response gained snickers and laughter to the squad.

 _"Any_ serious _idea?"_

 _"I've got one,"_ Statnik answered. " _I show an image of the Peregrine on my datapad to them and then do some motions between us, them, and the ship to send the message across. By the way these folks are grim and battered, I guess they won't resist."_

 _"Great, do it."_

The Engineer did as ordered, moving close to the group of scientists while typing on the datapad. He then turned it to the aliens while saying, all the while using his index finger to point between the image and the group. " _This is our ship, come with us to receive medical treatment and proper food_."

After another series of motions between the scientists, the soldiers, and the ship, the faces of senior researchers who had shaken Falkner's hand lit up in understanding. They proceeded to talk to the rest of their colleagues, then turning and nodding in what the soldiers assumed to be a positive way.

" _Awesome; Radvila, you take five of them with you and your team to elevator 11-C, we and the rest of them go through the 11-E. Take them to the level we breached the hull, once there,"_ He paused to point at the Engineers. " _You two get those docks working, and then we get the hell out of this place. Move out!_ "

" _Yes, sir!_ "

* * *

 _AES Peregrine, Medical Bay._

Aria D'ysera could not believe her, and her colleagues', luck.

For long months following the destruction of whatever civilization remained in the Krogan homeworld, Blood Pack mercenaries had kidnapped her and a group of skilled researchers; at first, she thought they only wanted ransom from the Council or their national governments, or even their families.

However, the truth turned out to be much more complex than her assumptions.

Instead of being held captive for money, she and her fellow prisoners were put in a makeshift lab with a single order from the Krogan Battlemasters: 'Cure the Genophage, or die.'

They were utterly dismayed by their condition; they had no capacity to cure the Genophage at all, but of course, no one had the courage to tell their captors that, they all prolonged the inevitable.

Then, in the best 'out of context' way possible, they were freed.

She sat in her bed on the med bay, with a cup of herbal tea on her hands and a blanket around her shoulders, many hours after their liberation by the aliens.

"So, Ulan, what do you think about them?" She asked, looking to one of her Salarian colleagues.

"They present many new variables. They appear to be of strong builds, healthy, and with what we may assume capable armed forces," he commented. "I'm more interested in their biology than their society, however."

"We all are, Ulan. But I'm just glad they freed us from the Blood Pack." A Turian said from his own bed.

"Not of altruism, of course. I imagine they desire to have First Contact; given their reaction to our presence there. To be there, they probably found the spaceport and decided to investigate the station; rescuing us was collateral." Ulan continued.

"It is peaceful, in any way, thank the Goddess. They may have reached here through an unknown relay, however." Aria commented.

"If they have activated a pair of relays is of no matter." Septivus interjected. "They are truly ignorant of Citadel law, as such they cannot be prosecuted by them; no sane person would suggest otherwise."

As he finished speaking, the door to the medical bay opened in a swish.

Lieutenant Hill entered the room, hair pristinely combed with gel and beard trimmed to perfection. Besides, and slightly behind him, an android stepped along the floor.

"Two genders apparently, interesting." Ulan commented to his colleagues.

" _Greetings"_ The man said in Imperial Standard, with the android translating to High Thessian.

" _We have managed to construct a translation from one of your languages through the systems found on the spaceport."_ The man lied, for they already had the language translated. " _I trust you have been cared for?"_

The aliens stared in surprise, while Aria, like a good Asari she was, took the initiative. "We have, thanks to your hospitality and generosity. We owe you our lives."

The man opened a thin smile. " _Good, we have much to discuss."_

* * *

 **A/N:** And now the galactic cat is out of the galactic bag, rat hunting time. And, I guess this is the end of Act I. See you all soon, I hope!


	13. Arrival

**A/N:** Last chapter of the year, hope you all like it. Beta read by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Hyperia_

Colonized worlds were developed with both ecological and urban concerns, as well as aesthetics in mind.

Parks, both on the ground level and suspended, shared space with executive buildings and apartment complexes. Hotels and commercial centers vied for the tallest spires, offering the most panoramic view as possible. Arenas could hold shows, events, and games for varied sports.

Organically, small business such as restaurants, cafés, and independent stores opened on commercial centers or at the very street level, together with stores from big-name brands, be it on designer clothing, technology, jewelry and many other areas.

Streets and avenues were designed to accommodate cars and pedestrians alike; be it through the self-driving buses or taxis owned by the cities themselves, their own privately owned cars.

Together with the suspended maglev trains that ran between buildings and the subway below the foundations of the tall pinnacles, citizens could easily and comfortably cross the large cities and reach their destinations.

On the outskirts of the great urban centers, spaceports and industry took hold, and amid them, the so called suburbs formed; with thousands and thousands of houses next to each other.

Two stories, three stories, with and without pools, with terraces or normal roofs; no house was too similar to each other. Local commerce and entrepreneurship flourished, along with occasional major corporation stores within shopping centers and the like.

Highways and maglev train lines offered transportation efficiently to and from the urban centers to the suburban housing districts, and even to smaller and distant settlements, either at the coasts of the continents; or further inland, where the large hypermatter reactors, military bases and orbital defense batteries were also located.

Such settlements were the ones that housed horizontal farming, either owned by families or companies; stretching for large swathes of land and cultivating genetic modified crops, similarly devoid of the human hand, save for coordinating the automated farming vehicles and the commercialization of such crops.

Different from the natural herds of livestock that could rarely be found outside of Terra, cloned animal meat be it red or otherwise, was grown on demand, effectively equal to the finest natural cuts.

Still, the novelty of eating something natural still drove the market for organic food. Unmodified crops and natural meat could be found at the most expensive restaurants and markets.

With the advent of interstellar colonization, verticalization could afford to take a step back on urban development; living space was not a concern anymore, after all. Long gone were the days of tens of millions cramped together.

On one of those suburban areas, Ricardo and Edward, friends through their profession and location, organized a small social gathering on the backyard of Ricardo's house.

Neighbors and friends either stood through the yard or sat along recliners and chairs by the pool, drinking and chatting, shielded from the bright star by the sun umbrellas. Their drinks were prepared and served on their demand dutifully by two droids, silent as stone, but with a friendly smile on their artificial faces.

Their wives, Yelena and Alyra, socialized with their friends, entertaining the guests in place of their husbands; the only figures from their families lacking, however, were their sons.

The spring season lasted four months locally, instead of the three on Terra, it brought back the imported and genetically modified birds who chirped and flew beneath the leaves and branches of the widespread trees, both the ones planted on sidewalks and the ones in backyards.

Similar to the alien _Pinus radioactiva_ species, the fauna and flora on the hundreds of settled worlds outside the inner systems differed little from the ones found on Terra's or Elysia's continents.

Unlike their original templates, those species were specifically engineered to aggressively overtake and supplant any biosphere in which they are introduced, effectively terraforming planets that already housed life.

The process could span a couple decades if made in junction with human intervention, or millennia if left untouched. Slowly and surely, the native species would be hunted and brought to extinction, being supplanted by the foreign species.

Ricardo, who manned the barbecue grill, salting steaks and tending to the ones already on fire, spoke suddenly to his friend without turning his attention away. "You know, Ed, I was afraid that it wouldn't work. But it sort of turned out alright it seems."

"I expected us to be dragged into a war, too. First Contacts are sensitive stuff," The man replied sipping on his drink. "And I did not think the Asari would hold their part of the alliance and not attack us with the others."

"I remember when Senator Maximillian argued for us to make First Contact ourselves, perhaps the Emperor listened to him in the end, instead of going with François idea of letting the Asari handle it."

"I guess," he replied shrugging, and then adopted a mildly sad look, upon remembering the rest of their conversation. "William and Angelo still enlisted, though."

"They're both too stubborn," Ricardo scoffed, before asking. "Do you think we influenced them? You know, they grew up on our stories."

"I don't know to be honest; it could be that, or it could be my father's own stories." He looked away, toying with the drink in his hands. "Or they could have just wanted to, you know, by themselves."

"You _two_ are the true stubborn ones." A third voice surprised both of them.

Alyra had her arms crossed, and a reproachful look on her face as she approached the two men. "You should have _supported_ their decision instead of _criticizing_ them. It is done, they're in, went through boot camp or whatever, there's nothing you two can do about it."

Ricardo turned his attention away from the grill, eyeing the woman. "I _know_ that, 'Lyra, but it doesn't makes me feel any better."

She had yellow eyes, short black hair, and a nose that caused many to call her snobbish. "It's not you who needs to be at ease with it, it's _them_. What did you want them to do, live off basic income for life while accumulating degrees?"

"I'm surprised you two are actually _agreeing_ with it." Edward commented, motioning with his free hand between Alyra and his own wife. "They could _die_ , you know."

"And they also could _not_ ," she retorted. "We're not even at war, and it's quite hypocritical of you two to tell them not to join, given you two did yourselves."

Edward looked away, suddenly interested in the trimmed live-fence, and Ricardo turned back to the grill, both attempting to escape the conversation.

"Alyra and Yelena twenty-five, Ricardo and Edward sixteen. Another argument won, you've got to step up boys," she teased, poking Ricardo on the shoulder. "Now, _both_ of you, let the droids care of the grill and come talk to the guests."

Once the woman was out of earshot, Edward muttered. "…I don't remember that we were actually losing."

"I had no idea they were keeping track of it."

The day passed, they dined and drank with friends through the afternoon, celebrating nothing in particular, except perhaps life itself. Eventually, their friends left to their own homes, leaving to the droids the task of collecting and washing the glassware.

Yelena and Alyra were inside, with Ricardo's wife showing something to Yelena on the Internet, while the men relaxed on the pool, floating on the edge near their drinks.

The sun had set down below the horizon, and the sky slowly turned from the sunset shades and pale afternoon blue into the ever growing dark.

The brightest and closest stars began to glitter, and the yard lighting supplanted the gone primary.

"…Are you proud of them?" Edward broke the silence both of them enjoyed.

"Never been more." Came the reply, full of certainty.

The blond chuckled and shook his head. "We're two fools. On one hand, worried to death over the boys, but on the other, proud as hell for them."

"When we die Ed, we'll be able to walk in afterlife with our heads tall, because of sons were Aryan warriors." Ricardo opened a soft smile as he spoke. "And I'll be able to tell my dad I fulfilled his expectations, I'll tell him that my son grew up right. That I was a good father like he was."

"To our sons, may they be better men than ourselves." Edward rose his glass in the air.

Both their glasses met. "Cheers to that."

* * *

 _Illium, Arisme's apartment._

He was not surprised to find himself in this position. In fact, he predicted it to happen as early as his first day in this assignment. Perhaps that was the Illusive Man's plan all along.

OSINT, Open Source Intelligence, was in his opinion an often-overlooked method of acquiring data on your adversaries. The Internet, or Extranet, in this case, was a rich ocean awaiting to be explored.

Mountains of data and not-so-secret info could be mined and constructed together to form a larger picture.

VIP schedules, diplomatic visits, force disposition, fleet displacements, military research. All that is glimpsed with freely available data that only needed to be interpreted and woven together by able and willing individuals.

And not only official information, but they were direct eyes on the unfiltered opinions of the masses. As the maxim holds: " _Vox populi, vox Dei_."

That had been his directive, and that of other agents, once he was planted in Council space. His directive however, was not to cuddle with his Asari host while watching news shows about the first contact and anything related.

The Crown Prince's visit was scheduled a week from now, but the two civilizations had already met extensively through proxies, exchanging words of goodwill, true or not, and open source information among themselves.

One side, however, already knew all that there could be known with such info.

But as his superior officer said frequently: " _The situation is, and will always be, fluid as the ocean currents_. _You cannot fight an ocean, simply sail it as best as you can._ "

At first, he was reluctant, uncomfortable even. However, all those months without an android to make him company took their toll. It wasn't that he did not like Arisme, he did; but she was an alien with aqua skin and no hair.

That complicated matters, blurred too many lines. Perhaps it was a test of loyalty, a test to see with which head they would think better. In any way, that did not matter now.

Winter had arrived at their hemisphere on Illium, it did not have any snow except at the very poles, but it was chilly enough to warrant spending the weekend under a warm cover.

Arisme used his arm as a pillow, while he scooped her from behind, as they both laid on the couch. He stared dead ahead at the flatscreen, thanking his luck that the woman next to him couldn't see his blank expression.

"You know, I envy those scientists." Arisme began, turning to look slightly at him. " _I_ should be there."

"Don't." He answered, quickly adopting a proper expression. "You got to see the real thing as it happened. These people there are simply lucky fools."

"Yes, but their names will be in history forever, while I'm a no-name researcher."

"Now, don't be like that," He enveloped her abdomen with his free arm, pulling her closer to him. "You are an accomplished academic; I forwarded several of your papers to my government, even that one about hormones and how they affect biotics."

"But you are _you_." She said without thinking.

"And I suppose it isn't enough?" He raised an eyebrow while questioning her, face turning serious.

Arisme hesitated for a second, biting her lip while looking into his eyes. She answered by kissing him briefly on the cheek, and turning her attention back to the flatscreen, attempting to hide the purplish hue of embarrassment that spread across her cheeks.

"I did not mean it like that..." She said quietly after a few moments, when the man could not see her face anymore.

'Flavius' swallowed back a sarcastic comment and settled for a simple and understanding: "I know you did not."

She became silent after their exchange, growing more comfortable in his arms and focusing completely on the show; listening to the account of the rescued scientist, the opinions of the Salarian, and the censored and carefully picked words of the Turian officer.

The droning of the three guests and the host at the show faded as the MID agent immersed himself into his own thoughts.

It was today, he was sure of it. It was today that his assignment would end. Perhaps this afternoon yet, or at night when they would share her bed. But his guts told him it would be today.

His heart was at his throat, he tried to blink the forming tears away, before they streaked through his face. He barely registered the passing of time, his thoughts changing from the anxiety and despair of before into wild speculations about the order to come.

His laptop was on the dinner table, next to his notebook and a glass of water. The device suddenly beeped with the sound of a received message.

His attention snapped to the workstation. "I'll be right back."

"It was warm here." Arisme made a mock sad face as he left the couch and moved to the dining room. He grinned back at her, and was glad the tears had disappeared from his eyes.

He quickly sat in front of the computer, opening the message, only to see a mess of letters, numbers, and symbols. He did not even need to see the sender address to know what it was about.

Running his cypher through the file, the message became clear. He read carefully, twice, thrice, building his resolve. He closed and erased the message, rising from his seat and returning to the living room.

"What was it?" Arisme asked as he took his place behind her again.

He settled his left arm below her head as a pillow again, while his right one embraced her. "Nothing special, family stuff."

"Alright then." She replied, dropping the issue.

As she moved to readjust herself, his embrace shifted, his right hand clasped over her mouth, while his left flew to her throat and tightened in a deadly grip.

She panicked instantly as her breath was caught up in her chest, talking into his hand while her free arm attempted to remove his hand from her airways, clawing at his forearm. Tears began to flow from her eyes as she was denied air while her trust and affection were betrayed.

He was too strong; she could have trained a lifetime for this, and she would still be too feeble to resist. Her efforts to free herself grew weaker and weaker, her tears stopped flowing, the muffled pleadings stopped.

Life left her at desperate last gasps for air. Her body slackened together with her killer's grip. Together with Arisme T'relis, the persona named 'Flavius Carter Alvarez' died too. One of the many he had assumed through the years of profession.

The agent closed her eyelids as he removed himself from the couch, and covered her body in the still warm cover. He turned off the flatscreen, and proceeded to collect all his belongings on the apartment.

They were neatly stored in the bag he arrived with, months ago. He moved to the dining room, and sent an encrypted message back, announcing the completion of the mission.

Soon enough, a Commando team would be here to dispose of the body. He doubted she would even officially 'die', similar to the other hosts housing MID agents through Asari space.

Now, as he finished packing his laptop and notebooks inside the bag, he realized it _was_ a test of loyalty all the while within a prestigious assignment. A test no one short of the Illusive Man would devise, a test he passed with flying colors.

An imaginary hole was blown through the middle of his heart.

He left the dining room in a hurry, opening the sliding window to the apartment's veranda as he passed the lifeless corpse. Rain assaulted his face and body immediately, and he heard the thunder high in the sky.

His hands gripped the metal railing as hard as he could, his knuckles turned white. His breath caught up in his throat as he stared down the abyss.

His world came crashing down on him, and he got as far as from the railing as he could, breathing heavily. He fell on the living room's carpet flat on his butt.

He attempted to rationalize what he almost did, and a thought passed through his mind.

A thought so selfish that it surprised him, seeking only after his own feelings, or what's left of them.

He realized he wouldn't be able to heal that wound by himself, not now, not ever. Perhaps, only perhaps, there was a chance for him; tens of thousands of light years away.

* * *

 _Citadel, one week prior to Constantine's first formal visit._

The Asari talk-show host welcomed back their spectators after the short commercial break, returning to the main topic of ' _A night with Asaleya_.' Aired from the Citadel, it was the most prestigious show of its genre on Council space.

The studio was similar to any show of its type, modern decoration, rows of spectators on the background. The building of this particular studio was close to the Presidium Ring, allowing for the panel behind the host and the guests to give a panoramic view of the Wards.

"Hello and welcome back to ' _A night with Asaleya_ '!" She sat along with her guests along a semi-circular glass table, her perfectly white teeth shone as she smiled in apparently genuine satisfaction. "As you have been accompanying us, we had a First Contact, my friends. The entire galaxy celebrates this moment, despite the troubling years and events past us; we can now look into the future with renewal and hope."

"With us tonight, as I had mentioned previously, is Dr. D'ysera, one of the scientists to be freed from Blood Pack mercenaries on the abandoned spaceport over Tuchanka." The host lightly motioned with her hand at the guest in question, the spectators on the studio applauding. "Doctor, I appreciate you could come despite the recent traumatic experiences."

"Thank you, Asaleya," Aria answered. "Indeed it has been traumatic to be in captivity under risk of death, but I think the Galaxy deserves to hear our story."

"I agree, Doctor, thank you once again. Also present tonight, is Dr. Larirn Zedril." Another round of applause followed.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Asaleya," he began. "My main area of expertise is sociology, and with much delight, Dalatrass Erlana has appointed me personally for the initial understanding of the newcomers. I hope all I learned through these weeks of exchange will help elucidate doubts on the populace."

"And together with us tonight is also Admiral Sitinia Stranis." The Asari motioned, raising applause once again. "Admiral, we are honored to receive you in our show, and we thank the gracefulness of the Turian Hierarchy for allowing you to come. _Thank you_."

The turian woman made a soft bow with her head, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "It is my pleasure, Ms. Saeri. Similar to Doctor Zedril's wishes, I hope to be able to clear any doubts in the galactic citizenry." She did not miss the opportunity to jab at the Republics. " _The Hierarchy_ , above all, cherishes trust and transparency."

"Now, introductions done, we dive into the matter we've all been expecting to hear, a first person account from First Contact from the mouth of one its participants." The spectators, a mixture of the three council races and some oddities, cheered and applauded. "Dr. D'ysera, please, tell through your eyes how you experienced the event."

Aria paused, collecting her thoughts, before beginning her account. "It was sudden; I think that is the best word to describe it all. We were working normally on the project the Blood Pack had assigned to us, another day in many, when we heard the varren outside our lab stir themselves and spring off howling."

She continued, attempting to transmit her point of view as best as possible. "The vorcha guarding us did not seem fazed by that, and continued to roam through the warehouse between our workstations. Perhaps they had thought it was simply the erratic behavior of the animals, 'normal', one could say. What matters, though, is that we did not hear the varren returning."

"Many minutes had passed since they left, when the power to the stations and the lights was cut off," she said, before chuckling, shaking her head. "At the time all I could think is that I was glad we had real-time backups on the computers, else we'd be punished for losing the data we produced that day. We also kept out silence while the vorcha began to argue."

"I'm actually happy to relive those moments, they validate the fact that now I'm free." She mused, staring at the glass table smiling, before coming back to herself and looking back at Asaleya and the other guests as she continued the account. "Not long after the power was turned off, suddenly the room was lit by bright flashes of light and sharp sounds overwhelmed the vorcha that shouted at each other. They were strong enough to disorientate both the blood pack thugs and us. My hearing was ringing, and I could not hear my own thoughts."

"When we were able to regain our bearings, we saw that the lights were on again, and that all the vorcha were dead. Along with all that, there were armored soldiers, tall like turians and salarians, spread through the warehouse, both on the floor and on the catwalks." The silence as she told the happenings in the studio spoke of the attention everyone paid to her. "We panicked and scrambled for whatever thing we thought we could use to defend ourselves getting as close to each other as possible; my colleague, Ulan, even armed himself with a syringe."

"We couldn't see that it was utterly futile at the time, and that if they had wanted us dead we would have been. We were too scared for our own good," she said. "The soldiers then began rummaging through the vorchas' bodies, they collected some weapons, and the kinetic barrier emitters some of the armored henchmen had. While the others were doing this, one of them lowered his weapon on the ground and raised his hands on the air beside his head. While we could see that the gesture meant he wasn't going to harm us we were wary still."

Asaleya interrupted her account with a question. " _He_? So the humans have two genders?"

Zedril quickly stole the chance from the Asari and answered the question himself. "Yes, but it is more complex than that. I will get to that at one point, however."

"Our interest only grows with so many secrecy!" The audience agreed with the host. "But everything at its time. Please continue, Dr. D'ysera."

"He then pressed a button on his helmet and spoke in a language we could not understand. At the time I did not think they were aliens, I was not even thinking that much to be honest." She laughed together with the audience. "He then removed his helmet, and only _then_ we realized they were aliens. It was like all our apprehension was replaced by shock and curiosity as he repeated his greeting in his natural voice-"

"What it was like?" Asaleya asked.

"It was clear and firm. It sounded similar to how Asari voice phonemes and sounds but it was much deeper. We were so shocked that we couldn't muster a response immediately." She explained. "He seemed to be annoyed by that, and said something else in his language. Two of their soldiers, one leaping from the catwalk, approached us. At that we tensed again, but they ignited handheld blowtorches, and we realized they were going to cut the chains."

"Once we were freed, he, who we then assumed to be the leader, approached us and extended his right hand. We began to convene if his gesture meant what it means in Asari culture too, and we decided to take the risk. Septivus, Ulan, and myself, stepped forward and shook his hand."

She continued more enthusiastically. "It was incredible, the skin texture was similar to ourselves, he even had finger nails, although cut short; five fingers with opposite thumbs. He pointed a finger at his chest, smiling, and said the name of his species. I took initiative and did the same, also naming my colleagues."

"He considered that introductions were over, and put his helmet back on, probably to communicate with their ship, he turned towards the other human soldiers at the lab too." Asaleya's eyes, and those of the audience, could not turn away from the scientist as she spoke.

"Moments later, one of the soldiers who cut the chains pulled a touchscreen device and showed us an image of a starship, while motioning between his group, the image, and us. In no time at all, we were in their medical bay receiving medical attention." She continued, looking between the cameras, the guests, and the spectators as she spoke. "We were talking to ourselves, enjoying the long sought comfort after that time in captivity, when one human walked in with another human, whom we at the time assumed to be a female, due to the dimorphism between them."

"But she wasn't?" The host asked.

"Surprisingly no!" The woman answered with enthusiasm. "It was a robot, a mech, incredibly verisimilar to a living being! The man, Chief Scientist Edgar Hill, used it to translate from his language to High Thessian, which they managed to acquire from the spaceport's systems. From there, we could communicate without impediment and we could contact the Citadel Emergency Service, which in turn contacted the Turian Navy."

Silence settled once she finished speaking, being broken by applause. "…I'm amazed; I never wondered I would see an actual First Contact in my lifetime," Asaleya said. "I thank you once again, Dr. D'ysera, for sharing your story with us."

"It is I that thank you and the channel for allowing me this opportunity."

"Now, onto the other topic, the peaceful aspect of the First Contact." The host changed topics. "Admiral, is it true that it almost turned hot, as they say?"

Sitinia tensed in her seat, and answered. "Unfortunately, yes. The Imperial Navy and the Turian Navy almost began hostilities due to a series misunderstandings."

"How that came to pass?" Zedril asked the turian.

"Our ships, a cruiser and frigate detachment, apparently closed too much on the station and the exploration ship. Their own military vessels, cruiser and frigate lengths, soon dropped out of FTL in an interception trajectory, we identified weapon's pods outside their hulls while our vessels were illuminated by their fire control systems."

"Some vessels turned towards them to bear spinal cannons, bracing for incoming fire, but the calm of the officer in charge allowed him not to escalate the situation and cause an incident of unforeseen proportions. Our vessels disengaged, with the humans doing the same, and soon we opened communications between parties."

"Thank the Goddess everything flowed smoothly. But tell us, Admiral, their technology, their ships, how they arrived at the Aralakh system?"

"The humans activated a dormant relay on their side." Gasps were heard, and the host adopted a surprised face. "Despite the violation of Citadel law, it is impossible to prosecute them based on laws that to them were inexistent. The Turian Councilor petitioned their pardon on the Council Chamber along with the Primarch of Palaven; no legal, or military, action will be taken against the Interstellar Aryan Empire for the activation of the dormant mass relay, be assured of that."

"That is comforting, after the fiasco of the Turian-Raloi War." Aria commented.

"I am not authorized to speak regarding the _Horn Chasm Incident_." The Admiral replied, not losing her cool, but glaring towards the Asari. "Nonetheless, their ships do not utilize element zero to produce electric power, and consequently they do not produce mass effect fields."

The audience whispered in confusion and curiosity. _"…How_?"

"It is simple actually, they have developed along other lines. They did not have access to Prothean archeotechnology. Life adapts, no matter the circumstance."

"If they did not have any contact with Prothean technology or artifact, it means…"

"It means that the Orion-Cygnus Arm, as the humans call it, is devoid of traces from the Prothean civilization, save the single relay, if the Protheans built them, that is. It opens enormous questions, in any case." The Salarian interrupted Asaleya.

"Interesting, indeed." The host commented, then turning towards a camera addressing the audience and the guests. "We'll now go for a short commercial break and return right back with your invaluable inputs, again, thank you for your presence here tonight."

* * *

 _Citadel, Presidium_.

Their shuttle, along with a handful of other Fencer-class frigates from the 175th Fleet, had landed long ago on the Presidium docks.

Admiral Erwin's four dreadnoughts and other escorts stood at the ready more than a hundred thousand kilometers away from the Citadel, near the inner edges of the Nebula, where the circle of Mass Relays poured ships in and out of the system.

Despite the climate of peace, Sunburn torpedo tubes were filled with cold propellant, fighters on both sides were fueled and armed, and the retracted turrets inside the human ships had rounds loaded into their barrels albeit their rails were powered down.

At the other side, making no movement that may be considered hostile, stood the Citadel Defense Fleet, with its assortment of vessels hailing from the three Council races. But nonetheless taking the same pre-emptive measures.

On the actual station, reporters and journalists, on the many different levels of the Presidium, tumbled over themselves to get a better glimpse at the two aliens who now walked through a secure passage heading the Council Tower, being escorted by numerous Royal Guards.

Andromeda's robes were long enough to cover completely her feet, exceeding her height and lingering on the pristinely cleaned ground behind her. The only parts of her skin exposed were her face and hands.

Elysian figures and designs permeated the robes, crimson and gold shared space. She sported perfect, and almost imperceptible, makeup and nail polish, fitting for the moment and Andromeda's position.

A silver tiara encrusted in glittering gems was placed on her hair, complementing the hairdo, with two small teldar earrings shining amber on her ears.

Constantine differed; instead of a civilian suit, he wore his Army Dress Uniform, much like the royalties of ages past. Dark green, adorned with service and qualification ribbons, including his most prized Army Aviator shoulder insignia, dispensing the cap but with the ceremonial saber on his belt.

"I've checked the news by myself, and intelligence reports with dad, before coming," Andromeda began, looking straight ahead. "They have taken the news of secret first contact with the Asari in varying degrees of criticism and praise. Some governments, you know which ones, have expressed sharp disapproval and deep concern over the bold initiative taken by the Republics, while others have soundly approved the move, citing disastrous previous contacts as precedence and leveraging criticism towards the two other Council nations."

"And the public in general?" Constantine asked, looking towards her.

She returned his gaze and answered. "They're pretty much similar, many public figures, narrative drivers, and celebrities have expressed the same sort of opinions. Of course, the diversity of opinions is much greater within Asari individuals, but on average, it has been largely positive. Most are simply glad the Galaxy is not at war again."

"That's good enough." Constantine nodded. "Being here today is already a setback as it is, at least we could save our own yet-to-be-built reputation; let them have the blame, and let the chasm between them grow."

Many moments later, Andromeda spoke suddenly, her smile clear on her voice. "Truth be told, I was surprised you'd come out in the open with it."

"The truth is the best lie," he joked. "But we had to do it, in reality. We made the official version public to the Empire at large, as is our duty, it would be simply a question of time until truth got out. The unofficial is known only to trusted individuals, we burned the treaty paper as soon as Irissa was in orbit; she doesn't have a copy after all."

"So, in sum, your actual treaty is held because you wish to do so, the Republics are criticized by the other Council members furthering the divide between them, and are simultaneously praised by outlying nations, including the Sesoln and other Salarian clans." She said, taking into account all the results. "And we are thrusted into the Galaxy as peace seekers, taking action against galactic politics and historic mistakes."

"Pretty much." The man said with a cocky smirk. "The situation was sort of… _precarious_ , but we managed to catch everyone unawares and come out on top; mom managed to shoot down the idea of you people annexing planets, thank God, and I even received a private letter from Nizen congratulating us on the move, not even _she_ had expected it to develop out like it did, but she played along without any instruction, she's not all bad after all."

They entered an elevator, together with four Royal Guards, who quickly formed a wall between them and the exit. "How do you think she'll react?" Constantine asked.

Andromeda feigned ignorance. " _Who?_ "

Constantine made a frown. "You _know_ who."

She dropped the innocent look, assuming a haughty smirk. "Assuming you'll two meet privately during these welcoming festivals they do, which I personally find a stupid tradition, not to mention a waste of money, she will be _livid_ at you."

The Princess continued, turning her gaze away from Constantine's face and checking her nails one last time. "You have took control away from her twice, first releasing the half-truth of your alliance, and contacting the Council nations on your own, without their foreknowledge."

"No matter now…You look nice."

"Thanks." She smiled. "I feel like I'm wrapped in a stage curtain, though."

They reached their destination not three levels below the Council Chamber; a large room in soft yellow ambient light, medium brown banners hang on the walls displaying the Citadel Council emblem in white on them, running from the ceiling to the floor.

A single window encompassing the entire left wall displayed the five open arms of the Citadel itself, bustling with activity and lights, and beyond the arms, the nebula spread far.

As soon as the door opened, Constantine's left hand rested gently over the sword's hilt, both aliens walked forward in unison.

The three Councilors stood on the center of the room awaiting their approach. While both Crown Prince and Princess Consort advanced, the guards took to the shadows, out of general vision, similar to the Spectres on the room.

When they reached a respectable distance, near the two seats made ready for them, Constantine spoke. "The Interstellar Aryan Empire and the Elysian Commonwealth recognize the sovereignty of the Citadel Council and its associate members."

Irissa, who stood at the center of the host of representatives, wasted no time. "The Citadel Council, and its associate members, recognize the sovereignty of the Interstellar Aryan Empire and the Elysian Commonwealth."

Herilus, the Turian Councilor, took the chance to speak as all parties took their respective seats. "Your Majesties, I am glad we have gathered here today, there is much to elucidate and know about each other, and many matters of state to discuss. I am anxious to hear your thoughts about the Citadel itself, however."

"We appreciate your hospitality, and the privacy provided on our arrival." Andromeda answered, all eyes turning to her as her own gaze lingered on the extended wards outside. "It is interesting, the concept of a multinational megalopolis also holding the nerve center of your alliance, and most recently the financial heart as well."

"A diplomatic _compromise_ , your Highness. Now financial as well, due to regrettable circumstances." Herilus elaborated on her answer. "The position of the Citadel in relation to the galactic polities and relay network is privileged."

"Beyond that, the Citadel is a neutral zone for armed conflict." Irissa added, locking gazes with the slightly taller being. "Irrespective of relations, friendly or hostile, between governments and entities, armed conflict is not to be prosecuted within the Nebula."

"Nothing bars unarmed confrontation, however." The Salarian Councilor, appointed three years ago by Dalatrass Erlana commented.

"Your Highness, Prince Constantine," Irissa continued, ignoring the jab made by her peer, directing her speech towards the Prince. "We have a degree of knowledge of your civilization through the information graciously shared by your earlier envoys, but the way you organize your politics is most interesting. I'd appreciate if you would enlighten us with a further look through your own words."

"With pleasure, Councilor." Constantine replied the alien with a gentle smile. "The name of our nation may be misleading to some. An empire is defined by an aggregate of nations or peoples ruled by a single government; while indeed we are formed by different nations, the process which the Empire as it stands today is viewed as a unification rather than conquest. It could be defined too as a Federation and as Republic, if one looked merely into its institutions of power."

"While indeed we have centralized institutions, planets have sufficient self-governance." He went further explaining. "For example, the residing populations elect their own local representatives, which dictate their own laws as long as they do not conflict with a pre-existing federal law, postulated by the Senate in accordance with the Constitution, the citizens also elect executive officials for administration of their own cities. Their police forces are also organized by those regional governments."

"De-centralized governance when dealing with the needs of interstellar governments is a must in many occasions." The Salarian diplomat commented in agreement, while also choosing the small and brief silence to jab again at his Asari colleague. "It is peculiar however, Crown Prince, the way you balance democratic elements with autocratic ideals."

Irissa quickly mustered a defense, glancing at him with the corner of her eye. "Autocracy and democracy need not to be opponents on basis of pure ideology; polities should cooperate when their common interests coincide."

"Irrespective of that, how does one achieves citizenship?" Herilus questioned. "The Hierarchy, as you know, grants full rights after completion of boot camp for Turians, and at the auxiliary military service for client races."

Constantine answered immediately. "At birth, to individuals born of an Aryan father and an Elysian mother. There is no other way."

Andromeda added shortly after. "The Elysian Commonwealth, however, does not recognize the concept of citizenship, only inheritance and possession, as it is preceded the concept of state itself, also rejected."

The turian's mandibles moved as his eyes grew wider, denoting genuine curiosity and surprise. "Why so?" he asked.

"Despite claims alleging that the state as an entity protects private property, the state in itself eventually violates private property and governs through inefficient methods." The Elysian explained, eyeing the three aliens in the room. "Only through common individual cooperation true efficiency and wealth can be achieved; as such, the Commonwealth represents no august body or territory, but rather the economic interests of all Elysian companies, wherever they may operate and whatever their size."

"A commerce guild of sorts, then." The Turian concluded.

"It can be seen as that, and as the Councilor said," she turned to Irissa, and opened a smile. "Polities can cooperate when their interests coincide."

* * *

 _Zakera Ward, Citadel._

People of many species came and went by them, on with their lives and routines; also paying attention to the fanfare the human royalty visit had caused on the media.

The air differed greatly from the fresh breeze one found in virtually every settle world through the Galaxy, filtered and re-filtered through the life support systems. Neon lights and personally displayed ads populated the many streets and alleyways.

Instead of the long dresses many Asari chose to wear on the Citadel, Mayrithia and Nyava chose simple casual wear. They walked side by side, with clothing store bags on their hands, a normal sight as any other.

"He's close now, today's _surprisingly_ his day off." Mayrithia commented, interacting with her omni-tool.

"Yeah, such a _coincidence_." Nyava snorted, looking around to the citizens with their eyes glued to flatscreens.

Mayrithia laughed, and continued. "He's got a red facial paint scheme like his daughter. 52 years old, so I think it's better if you go for it."

Nyava opened a smirk. "Don't want to be seen with a geezer?"

Mayrithia cheeks turned purple. "It's not like that, it's just that…you know, you're a Matron and all."

"It is fine, I'm just annoying you." She said, handing her bags over to Mayrithia.

The maiden have a second look to the bags on her hands; they arrived at their destination. "Huh…about the bags, do you think they will be mad?"

"They gave us the credits and mission. What we spend them on is our problem as long as we succeed." Nyava answered rolling her eyes, as they stopped by the club's entrance. "Now, go fetch the skycar and wait for me at the upper street."

"Good luck."

With that, the younger asari departed, while the Spectre entered the club. She soon began to hear the music while climbing the steps.

Unlike 'Afterlife', most clubs within the Citadel had no entrance lines, and the bouncers were more laid back. She stepped in, taking in the ambient around her. A full dancing floor, chatting, the sound of the gambling machines above.

Private booths on upper levels, as well as tables on the ground level, and the long bar counter. She quickly located her objective.

She strode forward, taking the vacant seat next to the turian man. Kalius Laevidas, C-Sec constable of the Network division, specializing in cybercrime.

The man was lumped forward on his seat, a cup of turian dextro spirit, taking occasional sips.

"Illium Brandy, 20 years, no ice, please." The bartender nodded, and quickly brought her drink, filling a square cup with green liquid.

The alien male, glanced at her drink for a second too longer, and quickly turned back to his own cup. Nyava, took a swig, and spoke, injecting mirth on her voice.

"Surprised that an asari drinks without ice?"

He opened what passed for a turian smile. "You're the first I've seen do it today, but it's not too rare."

"And here I thought I was original," she chuckled together with him. "So you've been here a lot?"

"Hell, for the best part of the decade." He shook his head.

"Drinking to forget?"

He looked down, focusing on his drink. "To remember the mistakes, there's a lot of them out there."

The bartender refilled her drink. "I know exactly the feeling. In fact, I'm here reminiscing my latest one."

"Children?"

Nyava nodded slowly, elaborating on the alien's guess. "She's a dancer on Chora's Den, I tried to convince that those clubs aren't the place for her, that the people there are bad stuff. But I guess few can listen to the experience of others."

"My own girl, she…" The off-duty officer hesitated for a second, but he took another swig of the drink and continued. "She took all the wrong decisions she could take. I blew up on her on all of them, drove her away…she's now somewhere between the Terminus systems and the DMZ. I haven't talked to her in a long time, but I _know_ she's still out there."

"They'll come around, that's what I hope at least." Nyava said.

"A drink to that. The children that we love."

They chatted more, sharing experiences; real in the turian's case, and fabricated in Nyava's. Soon enough, after a bathroom break he took, he began to feel sleepy and tired. And in no time at all, after paying the bill, the asari supported her supposedly drunk friend into a skycar, taking him home.

Or so everyone else thought.

* * *

 **A/N:** Take care when meeting new people in clubs. See you all in 2018, have a merry Christmas! Please leave a review if you can too.


	14. Maskirovka

**A/N:** I'm not an alcoholic, despite the frequent appearances of alcohol through the story. I hope all of you had an excellent closure to 2017, and a good beginning to 2018.

I also hope you all like this chapter, _and_ that you give feedback. This was beta-read by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Uncharted system, between the Orion-Cygnus and Perseus arms._

The metallic floor was cold under his bare feet, the air cool after being filtered and re-filtered by the spacecraft's life support systems. Around him, through the long and sterile white room, fellow soldiers readied their uniforms and personal items on the lockers installed on the walls.

He finished folding the last piece of his own attire in a pile at the bottom of his own locker; atop it he placed the combat boots. All pieces of the body armor were stowed at the back of the locker.

On the left wall to the onlooker, his M74 rifle was firmly secured along with his M25. His multipurpose combat knife lay on a shelf, together with the general equipment, bar his grenades, stored in another compartment of the ship.

He closed the grey door, made of what he would judge to be hard plastic, perhaps a polymer. His white medical attire had his military registration number, rank, and name along with the blood type, another number on the right side of his chest indicated his unit.

Slowly, all men finished their preparations and left the room, moving through corridors with many indications both on the walls and ceiling. He entered a larger hall, filled with racks and racks akin to a morgue, all open.

He followed the instructions given by the medical staff dutifully, nodding and paying attention to their lecture about the coming proceeding.

He had some apprehension as he laid in one of the racks, together with the numerous servicemen, and it heightened further once the racks closed inside the wall. The only lighting came from a small window near his feet, as he was enclosed in a space that fit only his body and nothing else, he had no room to turn if he wanted to.

Slowly, the drugs being administered into his body through the IVs did their job, and he dozed off to dreamless sleep. Once unconscious, the cryogenics took effect, preserving his body for a sleep that could last for months.

Outside his ship, a 4.5km long Jörmungandr-class Planetary Assault Vessel, several other sister craft clustered together in a forgotten system. Masking their massive signature on an asteroid belt orbiting a white dwarf, they took hibernating positions along with other warships.

Their crews, along with the brigades of soldiers they carried, slipped into cryogenics, waiting nearby Sesoln territory for an order that could come quickly. As such, they needed surge capability, the ability to mobilize troops without anyone knowing.

Societies had contact, agents transited, troop movements would be watched, both the innocent civilians who commented among themselves about the deployment of a loved one, or the malicious infiltrator who kept an eye always open.

The AIs would assume control of their awakening, and make any orbital corrections, in the improbable case of an asteroid closing on a ship.

As the final ship turned off their engines, and shutdown non-essential systems, the first part of the deception would be completed.

* * *

 _Terra, Alfa and Omega Complex._

He tapped his fingers on his knee impatiently, staring ahead into the wall behind his boss's desk.

He wore a suit, trying to appear professional and formal, given the person he was meeting, covering the numerous tattoos on his arms and body. He still retained the full beard and undercut, however.

He looked to the side, where there was a small couch and a small collection of drinks to satisfy the Director's vice; his eye caught a beautiful painting hanging on the wall.

' _Is that a real Van Go-_ ' his thoughts were interrupted.

Without warning, the door suddenly opened, and the man turned and stood, ready to salute the newcomer.

"No need for that," Harper interrupted the gesture with a smirk and a dismissing wave of his hand. "You're not military anymore, _remember_?"

"Every day of my life, sir." The man answered, with the slight trace of annoyance on his voice.

"Well, I'm not here to reminisce the past." Jack and the man both took their seats. "Mr. Cervantes, we have an initiative."

The bald man nodded slowly. "And you need CT6 soldiers."

"Not only me; the _Empire_ needs them." Jack explained. "There are boundaries in which not even the ISF can cross. Operations and activities in which our equipment, our uniforms, would be…unwise to be on the scene. Operations beyond the scope of what is called black ops; where the enemies are not uniformed forces or nation states." Jack finished.

The man furrowed his brows, processing the information. "… _Crime?_ "

"Yes," Jack answered, rising and bringing a bottle and two cups from under his table. "Straight out of my family's brewery in Scotland."

Camillo's eyes grew slightly wide, as he looked between the bottle and the smirking man. "Yes, please, thank you."

Jack poured in the liquid on the two glasses, and toasted silently with the former soldier in front of him.

After moments of savoring the drink, the Director continued his briefing. "In Citadel Space, paramilitary companies are legal too. They operate in legal and illegal contracts all the same, solving other's problems in manners which more respectable companies or individuals cannot."

That man made a face of disapproval. "No wonder their criminality rates are off the charts."

"Indeed." Jack agreed, having seen data from both Armali Social Research Foundation and Council's Ministry of Social Development. "Their members are…largely _uneducated_ , dregs of their society. Now, there are several private defense companies, but there are three major ones that fall into our concern."

He slid several beige dossiers across the table to the dishonorably discharged soldier.

" _Eclipse_ is asari led, they field an extensive number of biotics on their ranks too and operate primarily from Illium." He started speaking, while the man focused on the files. "But do not be fooled, unlike the asari Spectres and other Republican intelligence agencies, they are unlikely to cooperate with us in any form if our interests do not converge."

"Now, the other two, _Blood Pack_ and _Blue Suns_ ; the first you're briefed on, the second is made of turians, salarians, and batarians in different quantities." He went on to explain the mercenary companies. "They operate independently of governments, stemming primarily from Omega Station, but they accept contracts and missions for those same governments too; fighting illegal wars, doing dirtier work than the dirty work, giving support in operations. _We_ , however, cannot depend on them for that."

"I think I understand you, sir." The man said, sliding the dossiers back.

" _Good_." Jack smiled. "CT6 will be _dissolved_ , and then reformulated into this new initiative. We have already secured the necessary initial funding through Elysian companies. Over the following months we'll establish a general headquarters on Omega and other bases on a number of planets and planetoids throughout the Traverse and Terminus Systems."

"You will be in contact with MID agents through Council territory and Terminus; you are to offer assistance, most probably extraction or diversion, as requested." Jack continued to explain, pulling several more files from a drawer on his desk and delivering them to the man.

"You'll also be required to set up similar commercial endeavors as the other three mercenary groups, _all_ works are valid if they do not interfere with geo-political concerns of ours." He stressed, eying the man for a reaction.

"The training we receive at CT6 will prove valuable, given the scope of our operations." The man mused, stroking the beard on his chin.

He suddenly looked up, putting his hands on his knees, with concern and mild awkwardness clear on his eyes. "Ah…regarding Omega…I heard it is famous for several…huh…how do I put it?"

" _Look_ ," Jack interrupted, gesturing with his hands. "We don't care if you fuck aliens or get wasted, but it must not interfere with your operations neither your loyalty. You and the other soldiers must remember _why_ you are in CT6 in the first place."

The man's face then turned from embarrassment into resolution. "Yes, sir. We've already failed once, we _won't_ allow ourselves to do it again."

"Then, welcome to the _Cerberus_ initiative, Cervantes." Jack extended his hand while rising, smiling in satisfaction with the answer.

The man promptly took it, giving a firm shake as he sealed his future for the next years of his life.

* * *

 _AES North Sea, Citadel._

Contrasting with the serene outside of the human diplomatic vessel, its insides were a furious storm of feelings, ideals, and agendas.

An argument that in Constantine's mind was already old and stale rose its ugly head once again.

"I can't begin to formulate words to express how I felt, Constantine." Irissa said, shooting a cold look to the man in front of her.

"Then try to," he replied, removing his jacket with care not to damage or remove the ribbons, attempting to linger to the last threads of patience remaining. "I want to hear it."

"I don't think I even _need_ to." She shot back, bitterly. "You already know it. How _could_ you do it?"

"Don't you see?! There was no other option, Irissa!" The man defended, his expression turning from a patient face to a fierce frown. "I've already explained this to you, and while you may not like it, it is factually true! It was the only way!"

"Then do it again." She would not let the matter drop, pressing the man further. "Explain to me why it was good to be stabbed in the _back_."

He pointed a finger at her, and began to speak. "First, you fucking broke your _own_ laws! Second, by infinitesimal chance, you were found out red-handed by Dalatrass Nizen!"

A pause. "Third, _we_ managed to seize the initiative and save the situation," he continued, with his voice rising gradually. "We are doing nothing more than we had planned; the divide between the Salarians grow, together with the one between the three council races, all the while thrusting the Empire in the political arena in a good light, while avoiding to tarnish the Republics reputation to the ones we actually wanted to, that is the Galaxy at large."

"Now, what _you_ need to do," he pointed his index at her once again. "Is to stop thinking with your emotions and help me fucking handle this!"

The man discarded the uniform jacket on the couch, not caring anymore if the ribbons are ripped off or not. He sat back, running both hands through his hand and taking a deep breath.

Silence followed for many minutes, with both parties not eyeing each other.

"Now, what are you going to do that my position has weakened? Side with the _Salarians_?"

Constantine looked once again at the Asari in front of him, studying her face. He suddenly got up and went to another room, coming back with a larger than normal book on his hands.

"Sit by my side, I want you to see something." He said, with the alien's curiosity getting the better of her initial hostility.

Irissa sat beside the man, with her hands on her lap, still hesitant. Constantine opened the photo album, the photos began with copies of black and white restored pictures.

"This is James Harper, volunteer of the Waffen-SS, this was taken in 1944. He's the founder of Harper Technology and Manufacturing." He pointed to the picture of a man in his early twenties, a neutral look on his face while he held a Kar98 bolt-action rifle; behind him, a plaque indicated that Warsaw was 20km to the east.

Irissa stared dumbstruck at the paper image. "This is five _hundred_ years old?"

"No," Constantine answered, chuckling at her question. "This is a copy of a copy, the originals are not here, and these are only 20 or so years old."

"And these weapons are…?" She looked back to the man. "You've never showed me anything like them."

"They fire chemically propelled metal rounds, they are very old, but very fun to shoot." He answered, and then pointed to another picture. "Here he is in the United States, on the first industrial plant he built. He had then to assume a new identity, after his unit surrendered on the Balkans, after being redeployed there to cover the Wehrmacht retreat, together with Italian SS Divisions."

He explained further. "Simply changed the James name, the Harper last name is very common, never told his kids his original name. Old bastard kept that one secret to himself."

"He did not go back to his original country?" Irissa asked, looking away from the pictures.

"Of course not," he said, not taking his eyes from the photo. "His parents, or the nation, would never accept him back."

He then pointed to a picture of a very old man sitting on an armchair, with a gentle smile on his lips. "This is in 2010, when his grandson assumed the company, his actual son had never wanted to do much with it on the business aspect, but he was a marketing genius, the elder Harper himself would die six months later of deteriorating health."

"Look, this is Giorgio Valeri, right after his graduation ceremony in the Italian Army as a junior officer, this was in 2011." The man was in his early twenties, with a big smile on his face as his parents hugged their son from each side, he proudly wore his green dress uniform and cap. "He and Harper would meet two years later by pure chance on a café."

Irissa made a puzzled face. "What do you mean by pure chance?"

"Just that, Harper and his fellow conspirators did not actively seek the man; he was on a tourist trip, and Giorgio was on leave." He explained. "Their friendship grew, and Giorgio's career in the military grew astronomically as he was introduced to Harper's powerful friends. Then, propping the man to prominent position within the ranks of both his nation's armed forces and within NATO itself; they could then further their plans."

"Who's this?" She pointed at another image.

"Ah! This is the Russian president with Harper." He replied with enthusiasm. "He contacted an individual that Russian intelligence suspected was member of A World Without Boundaries on his own, he was essential in the entire revolution. With his support we had the entire Russian governmental apparatus at our disposal."

"But why?" Irissa questioned further, motioning with her hands to get her point across. "I mean, do it on his own?"

"He wanted to utilize AWWB to his own interests; of course he could not know the extent of Harper's goals neither what exactly they were." Constantine began. "But it did not escape the intelligence agencies, governmental or otherwise, the links and associations Harper was making. They knew he was forming a group, but the purpose eluded them."

The man flipped the page. "His family wasn't related to anything major in the twentieth century, neither was mine for that matter, but he wanted to achieve some geo-political objectives for his country while using AWWB; ended up becoming a true believer in the end as rare as it sounds for a politician at that time."

"But Harpers tend to have that effect on people." He commented, smirking and shaking his head slightly.

He showed her many more pictures of his personal collection, be they pictures themselves historical recordings or personal images. Time went by as they conversed, and as Constantine slowly worked to defuse her anger.

"Irissa," he said, finally closing the album. "These are pieces of our history that few have ever seen. Even fewer know the way that we made history last year. You said before, that now that your position has weakened, we can simply forget we ever had any accord with you and forge new alliances."

At the same time he said those words, Irissa's face steeled, contrasting with the unaltered curiosity of early. "But, I believe we have done great things together, both as nations and individuals. I do not want to burn the bridges we have built since then."

His tone turned an octave lower, and he spoke quietly. "I do not want to forget the way your eyes shone as I told, and as I tell now, the history of my people. Neither do I want to forget how ethereally _beautiful_ you were on the moments we shared."

He took her hands into his own; Irissa lowered her gaze to stare at their joined fingers, as he continued to speak. "If _you_ truly wish to continue, then we'll take steps to forge a true alliance, between the Republics and the Empire; and alliance between _you and me_."

"I…I _do_ , I truly do," she joined her free hand into Constantine's, switching her gaze between their hands and the man's eyes. "But how can I fully trust you, how can I know that you won't pull such a stunt like…like _that_ with us…with _me_?"

Constantine's eyes scanned her face once again, and he said finally.

"Meld with me."

The white markings on Irissa's face went up, similarly to an eyebrow, and her eyes went wide. "Are you _sure_?"

"Never been surer in my life." He lied.

Irissa wasted no time in closing the distance between them and stealing a fierce kiss from the human, slowly retracting to her original seat once they needed to breathe once more.

Not exchanging a word, but conveying a clear message through her eyes, Irissa repositioned herself on the couch next to the man. She unlocked her hands from his own and gently touched his temples.

She whispered softy as her eyes changed their color, blue turning into black with a thin silver lining. " _Embrace Eternity_."

* * *

 _DARPA Research Site 51, Nevada._

Emperor Ferdinand had a dislike for elevator rides, he found them to be an inconvenient period of time lost, and all the while you heard overused music that supposedly relaxed the passengers.

Nonetheless, he just got out of probably the longest elevator ride in the Empire, save for the space elevators proper leading to the Martian Shipyards. The greatest difference was that instead of up, he went down.

He stepped out of it into an empty hangar together with his escort of Royal Guards. His vision was instantly filled with the plain grayness of the walls, and the darker colored and polished floor with indications and directions written in white.

The hangar was connected by underground tunnels to many other parts of the complex, and he could see the small vehicles akin to golf carts leading personnel or materiel to one place or another.

Meeting him there, out of the path travelled by the cars, were a pair of scientists still in their lab coats, their hands buried in their pockets.

One of the academics stepped forward and greeted Ferdinand by softly bowing his head. "Your Majesty, welcome to our facilities, DARPA is honored to have your visit. Please accompany us further inside."

The ruler answered, taking the man's hand into a firm shake. "It is my pleasure, Doctors..."

The middle aged man, with shoulder length hair, had the courtesy of blushing. " _Ah_ , forgive my manners, I am Dr. Keith Green and this is my colleague Dr. Aerin Nerwenye."

The elysian simply bowed with her head, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

Introductions aside, Ferdinand and the pair ventured inside the research complex, heading through corridors and doorways guarded by pairs of ISF soldiers who were eager to both salute and look the sharpest as possible as their Commander in Chief passed.

Founded in the twentieth century by the defunct U.S. Government, DARPA or _Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency_ , was the most advanced and well-funded research agency in the world at that time.

Responsible for the development of the first stealth tactical bomber, together with the first fifth generation fighter jet, it was also responsible for the development of electric cannons, popularly known as railguns, metallic hydrogen engines, later perfected by Eldfell-Ashland, pure-fusion nuclear warheads and many other defense-related technologies.

They passed through catwalks above manufacturing lines specially built for the development of either prototypes or everyday items for the labs.

Some of the brightest and most talented minds worked on the laboratories, human or elysian, as the Empire fiercely competed over qualified professionals with private enterprises.

Soon enough, as they moved away from labs, and after they traded catwalks for inter-building rail transportation, moving personnel through the complex, they arrived at the administrative sections, and then finally, at a modest conference room.

"Please," Dr. Green said, sitting on the long table before them. "Take a seat, we have much to display."

Once seated, the monarch crossed his hands atop the metallic surface of the table saying. " _So?_ "

The lights darkened and the wall opposite to Ferdinand was superimposed by a large flatscreen descending from the ceiling, at the quick command of Dr. Green's tablet. "We have come across several projects and we have petitioned to discuss them personally, instead of simply relaying the information to the Department of Defense."

"First," the screen lit up as the man spoke, illuminating the room and showing a projection. "The matter of Mass Effect technology and its applications."

"That is something we have had plenty of time to study here at DARPA since first contact." Dr. Nerwenye interjected, looking directly from one of the table's edges towards Ferdinand. "It is redundant at some instances, such as artificial gravity, but amazingly and extremely useful at others."

"For example, the implementation of kinetic barriers on our ground vehicles could solve the imbalance between offense and defense in ground combat." Dr. Green elaborated on her commentary. "As you are aware, even the Aegis-3 ADS cannot intercept our railgun projectiles much less mass effect based guns, and we cannot field universal defensive shields on vehicles for a series of reasons."

"As such we have begun the development of our own prototypes of kinetic barrier projectors." The woman said motioning to the screen. "Initial technology provided by the asari, in their foolishness, was invaluable."

"Why do I hear a ' _but_ ' there?" The Emperor questioned, turning his attention away from the screen and towards the researchers.

"Because there _is_ one." Green answered, displaying another slide at the screen. "We come at odds with plasma fuel cells in the process; they can provide enough power for the main armament and the tachyon datalinks, including the engine and life support without problem, but it comes short when a kinetic barrier is added."

"And we'd need to squeeze power out of the barrier to feed the other systems; which are either the propulsion, the tachyon datalinks, or the weapons, which is also out of question." Green explained.

Ferdinand raised one eyebrow. "And you have any ideas for countering that?"

"Well…we'd need to implement a _dedicated_ power source," He looked between his colleague and the Emperor. " _Preferentially,_ an element zero one, given their compact size in relation to plasma cells."

Ferdinand raised both eyebrows this time. "That has some geopolitical implications and why not simply changing from plasma cells to a single Eezo core?"

"We understand the implications." the man conceded, nodding together with his colleague. "But, if we can import asari personnel, we could get perhaps additional help opening our own mines of element zero on yet unexplored systems and planets here within our space, or identify existing deposits in chartered systems."

Dr. Nerwenye wasted no time in building upon their plea, getting the attention from the elder Valeri. "We have also verified that an Eezo core would not be able to provide enough power to the vehicle, not one that fits on them at least. And given the different economic and technological bases of our civilizations, our need for element zero would be immensely lower than theirs when compared with stelarite, teldar, or other rare metals, for example."

"If we can mine our own Eezo," Dr. Green continued with enthusiasm. "Research into kinetic barriers can proceed at full speed, both at the vehicular and at the personal level, as we'll be able to research miniaturized power cells!"

"I understand." Ferdinand said, not giving a definitive answer. "I want to hear about your other projects, however."

"Ah, right." The scientist nodded, typing on his tablet and displaying more information on the screen.

The elysian researcher began explaining. "We have come across an interesting opportunity when elaborating on some concepts related to Forerunner technology and our pre-existing designs."

" _The Arenas_ ;" Dr. Green began. "The brain interprets the inputs made by the supercomputer's database as reality, and then the burden of running the more complex simulations such as individual sensorial input is shared by the computer and the minds; which are effectively the most potent supercomputer in existence, interconnected by it."

"With that said, our team of head researchers has been extrapolating the idea of neural computing," Nerwenye continued. "For example, the OODA cycle of a fully trained combat pilot is sixteen seconds, and another eight for targeting; that is, allocating ordinance and firing that ordinance on a desired target. Except evading of course, which on average takes only two seconds."

"Our training AIs of course have much faster reaction times, with an OODA loop record of two seconds and another record of half a second to weapon's allocation. Once it detects a threat, two seconds are elapsed until it takes action." The man's enthusiasm returned in full force. "But they only understand and process simple inputs; not smells, sounds and colors, the feeling of leather on the skin, or even the _massive_ data our brain is fed _constantly_ while we do not even notice."

"Where do you want to get at?" Ferdinand questioned, visible bored by the science.

The elysian continued on her colleague's explanation, with much less vigor. "We ran some pre-emptive simulations, and when the Arena simulates the concept of the craft's computer being aided by the pilot's brain the OODA cycle for the pilot falls to _one_ second."

"But when the pilot's perception is fully merged with the craft's airframe, his OODA cycle drops effectively to synaptic speed, in the same manner someone can instantly comprehend that an object is coming at his direction and dodge, or the specific flavor of that ice cream, the origin of the sounds he hears and their intonation, associating that intonation with an emotion; all that _simultaneously_."

"Fully merged? Slow it down a bit for me." The older man said with his hands up. " _What_ do you mean exactly by that?"

She happily obliged to explain. "There would be no difference between the readings given by aircraft instrumentation, and the pilot's own perception of reality. In the same way we can shape reality at will inside a simulation, a person's conscience is transplanted into a billiard's ball or a featureless humanoid; the pilot's reality will become the airframe, he will understand himself being the aircraft, and not simply in it."

"That can be applied not only to combat aircraft, but to ground vehicles, _starships_! The workload that the brain _can_ handle defeats our most powerful _AI_ ; if militarized, it could offer unmatched reaction times." Her enthusiast colleague went on. "A dreadnought or a strike carrier manned by dozens instead of hundreds, cruisers and frigates with crews that you can count on your _fingers_."

"Better yet, sir! If we can miniaturize cognitive computing technology, _and_ apply the principles of amniotic connective liquid; the aquatic medium provided by the connective liquid would allow our pilots' bodies to handle higher G maneuvers than before!" He explained, quickly switching slides in the presentation.

The man continued, not wasting a single breath. "And even then, with the raw power the brain would provide, we could enable a single individual to control an entire squadron of aircraft, an entire platoon of tanks! Remote controlled units would, of course, prove highly susceptible to cyber warfare, but then -"

" _Ok_ , slow down." Ferdinand said while chuckling and putting his hands up, effectively halting the man's tirade. "I _like_ the idea of reducing personnel in the services, but I want an evaluation on the cyberwarfare risks of remote operated platforms too. I also like the idea of integrating mass effect technology on our own. But, if we can meet the requirements for that research, when do you think we can have this technology in full integration?"

"Thirty to forty years from now regarding the cognitive computing project, which can begin immediately." The woman stated honestly. "And around two to five, if we can receive a constant supply of element zero and existing technical expertise, for the kinetic barrier integration and perfection. But kinetic barriers are not the only application of mass effect technology."

"Indeed, sir." Her colleague agreed. "During the last year, we have studied data fed to us by both our sources and asari ones on turian ' _Thanix_ ' so-called hydro-magnetic weaponry. We have come to speculate that it is probable that they utilize ME fields, in junction with stelarite railing or coils, to achieve their astounding kinetic force; instead of their official version of simply molten ammunition."

Dr. Nerwenye began to elaborate on the subject. "While their ammunition is indeed molten alloys of both tungsten and depleted uranium that solidify once fired, as proven by our studies of their released footage-"

"Perhaps a logistics-wise choice." Her peer interjected.

" _As I was saying_ , that alone does not explain the surge in firepower when compared to pure Mass Effect weaponry." She continued, casting a glance at her colleague while swiping her fingers through her own tablet. "Our simulations indicate that if a mass effect field lowered the mass of a projectile accelerated by stelarite rails or coils, the resulting kinetic energy matches the provided figures by the hierarchy."

"If they are indeed utilizing stelarite for kinetic-kill weaponry, they will soon realize that it can be used to project universal defensive shields as well, if they develop the means to purify it that high and then achieve the desired isotope. And they will then eventually identify the nature of the UDSs and then tachyons themselves and so on…" Dr. Green said.

" _Correct_." The woman said, nodding with her head, before turning her attention to Ferdinand again. "However, we can take advantage that in the same manner. Our own anti-ship rail artillery batteries, both on the ground and in space, can make use of ME fields to lower projectile mass too, as our only lacking component is the mass effect fields themselves. The drawback would be, of course, increased heat."

"And not only that, but since we have larger stockpiles and a better understanding of stelarite than the turians, we also speculate if it would be possible to hybridize the technology on platforms other than starships and orbital defense batteries." Green elaborated, displaying another set of information on the screen. "Ground combat vehicles and combat aircraft would be benefited immensely from the added firepower."

"In sum, we are on the cusp of a true shift in the paradigms of warfare technology." The woman finished, turning on the lights again.

Moments of silence passed as the statesman evaluated all the information he received. He stood up, being followed by the researchers, who adjusted their clothing after sitting for so long.

Ferdinand extended his hand, shaking the researchers' own hands with a firm grip.

"Congratulations on your new funding." He said, smirking.

For a brief second of discomposure, while both scientists looked at each other, Ferdinand couldn't help but think that they looked like children on a Christmas morning.

At the end of that same day, three new projects were stamped with the much prized red mark: atop a beige folder, written in red letters circled in a thick red line, ' _WW_ ', reserved for weapons so _wonderful_ that they could change the tide of wars.

* * *

 **A/N:** After a long and unsettling January, in which I had surges of inspiration but nowhere to write them, I finally managed to find a cable and gain access to the HD of my defunct laptop, and finally finish an already finished chapter. (further information on my profile for those who were not aware.)

Perhaps it's time to consider using Google Drive…

All in all, I hope you like the chapter, I think I have mentioned before that we now enter the middle phase of the story, but I reiterate.


	15. Overture

**A/N:** My writing schedules are all over the place, so updates will be way less frequent that one might expect. I hope you all understand…

Nonetheless, here is the work of some weeks of typing, and severe brainstorming, I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

 _Citadel, Council Tower._

Constantine was glad, and felt extremely lucky that melding was a different experience compared to what he had in mind from the very beginning of his relationship with Irissa. The risk he had taken would be astronomical were the situation any different.

But even in the worst case scenario, Harper and his father's political machinations would only be made harder, and they would need to seek another ally, or _sock puppet_ , in this case. Or more drastically, and _insanely_ in his opinion, remove Irissa from the Councillorship.

While being used for both the reproduction and sharing of feelings, as he had learned thanks to the OSINT operation the MID conducted together with RIS, melding, for an Asari, also represented the deepest connection they could have with someone.

And as he had learned, the more exact and complex thoughts were impossible to be conveyed through their link; however raw emotion and memory could be sent through.

Their childhood, adolescence, maturity; the feelings towards people and situations in general, the emotions they felt at times during their lives; the peak of happiness and realization he felt when Marcel had been born, the joy and fulfillment Irissa felt at her mother's expression of pride when she was appointed Councilor by the Matriarchy.

As such, he wasn't surprised to notice how Irissa eyed him differently, similarly to how Andromeda gazed at him in their most special moments.

The subtle body language, the deep and meaningful gazes, all of it amounted to the realization of his mission's ultimate success.

The terrifying outcome, however, was that he wasn't left unchanged from the experience either. Tugging at his heart were small strings of affection, which had developed into something familiar.

Something a particular blonde girl had managed to do many years before.

But that was something he left to ponder about later.

They were now gathered in a circular table, sitting at equal distances from each other, inthe same room their first talks had begun. Naturally, Andromeda was at his side.

"Majesty, on the matter of treaties…" Herilus, the turian Councilor, began speaking. "Are you aware of the Treaty of Farixen?"

" _Yes_." The short reply was given by Constantine. "I will be direct, Councilor; the Empire is not in compliance with the treaty and neither do we feel inclined sign it."

The turian had the grace of being shocked for a fleeting moment before retorting. "But it is a requirement to becoming an associate member and having an embassy recognized by the Council!"

"Understand, Councilor, dreadnoughts are a strategic asset, much like Eezo mines, metallic hydrogen refineries, or anti-proton production sites." Andromeda interjected. "What company, or state, reduces its own net worth or discards assets to placate competition?"

Constantine pressed further. "And not only that. As we know that the law is easily circumvented, as the Turian Navy has active carriers of similar size, but without spinal cannons. They carry hundreds of small craft, which can be armed with numerous munitions."

"This has been a point of Salarian policy in the last years, if I can remind you again Councilor." The salarian Councilor stated, turning to Herilus, raising an old debate. "We have motioned time and time again for the repeal of the construction caps among ourselves, Council members that is. Perhaps it is time to reconsider the question."

Herilus looked to Irissa, to see her response; and after she began to speak, he knew he had been outmaneuvered. "Indeed, that is a pressing question. Our inventories of such ships have grown in these centuries, going from the tens into the hundreds when pooled together. And indeed, the revision of the relationship between the treaty is ambiguous at best."

She allowed a moment's pause, before continuing thoughtfully."Species to become associates must sign the treaty, and to become members of the Council must provide their share to the common galactic good; something that the treaty hinders."

"With that said, we can postpone the decision for now." Irissa conceded slightly, holding fast to asari centrist positions, before proceeding, as previously agreed with Constantine. "But the Citadel Conventions, your Highness, is a concern of mine and of the Republics in general, being responsible for its inception."

The salarian was quick to complement. "Many planets and biospheres still hold scars from the wars of the last millennia, and we hold a firm stance in reducing the barbarity and destruction of warfare, at least where the Council governs."

The response from the human was similarly quick. "We are prepared to sign the Conventions, but we have a minor issue with the classification of WMDs."

That perked Herilus's interest. "What sort of issue, Majesty?"

"Don't be mistaken, I was informed on the Krogan rebellions and the tactics employed. We agree that hurling asteroids into planets is a line _not_ to be crossed." The human answered promptly. "However, we maintain stockpiles of thermonuclear warheads, both triggered by fission-fusion processes and tantalum-induced fusion, with multiple delivery methods; we are in disagreement of their lasting effects on living environments."

"All polities maintain stockpiles of these devices, but _how_ can you be in disagreement regarding nuclear fallout?" The salarian questioned with incredulity clear on his voice, matching his de-escalation orders received from his Dalatrass. "This is simply an opportunity for Terminus factions to escalate smuggling of such weapons onto the hands of other less manageable militaries; not to mention that any Hegemony campaign now has the risk of destroying habitable worlds."

"I do not question the lasting effects of dispersed radioactive material over a biosphere, rather the purveyed notion that enough detonations would lift dust into the atmosphere and block sunlight, thus ruining crops." Constantine retorted. "The Krogan Collapse, before their uplift and before their achieved FTL if I'm correct, for example, saw the use of thermonuclear warheads, yes, but also the redirecting of local asteroids into the surface in the last decades of their world war."

"Well, that is a debated position in academic circles if my memory serves me right, as no living civilization had a clear example of solely nuclear warheads beings used in such a manner, nor do we have any archeological example; or the possibility to test such effects on a lab." Irissa interjected, oblivious to the actual science involved. "And by the information your earlier diplomats have shared, humanity has had nuclear exchanges in past; and _survived_."

The turian and the salarian shared a quick knowing look; the Sur'Kesh native could tell that Herilus loved the path the conversation was now being taken to.

Andromeda followed soon after, turning her gaze to the salarian. "And regarding the secondary concerns, it is well known that criminals don't follow the law by definition. Allowing governments, even a _private entity_ , to bring enhanced firepower against them is a sound measure."

The turian was quick, and took the initiative away from his peer, before he could say another word. "And what do you propose?"

Constantine readjusted himself on his seat. "Well, a limit on the number of warheads ddetermined by belligerent sides perhaps. What do you say, Councilor?"

Herilus pondered, remembering his NBC training, before saying: "It…it would open possibilities and ramifications to troop deployments across Council Space."

It was Constantine's time to ponder a response, looking the turian dead in the eye, before his serious face turned into an almost arrogant smirk.

"That seems agreeable, but I'm sure we will deliberate more in the coming weeks." He said.

Irissa, being in Constantine's pocket since that fateful night, chose that moment to intervene; she looked towards both her colleagues and said: "Who is in favor of subjecting the Citadel Conventions on Warfare, along with the Treaty of Farixen, to revision by the Council on a future session?"

She immediately, but slowly, raised her hand. Herilus hesitated for a few seconds, but followed her gesture. It was only when she looked to their salarian colleague that she could discern that he glared at Constantine's direction.

A quick glance could reveal why; the Crown Prince had too raised his hand in agreement, a blatantly intentional faux pas.

Irissa's eyes filled with mirth as she understood the innuendo, looking straight into Constantine's; the neutral façade was broken by the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth.

"Council Action approved by two votes against one, the subject will be heard and have his propositions debated at a scheduled time." She called, placing her hand upon a haptic panel that was projected out of the table, her peers doing the same.

* * *

 _Kithoi Ward, Taralos Amphitheater._

A male voice spoke as all spectators seated themselves in uttermost silence, either in the VIP booths or in the general seats. _"Please, stand for the national anthem of the Interstellar Aryan Empire, sung by the Otto Stroheim Polytechnic School Choir with the melody performed by the Martian Naval Academy Band."_

Upon the large stage, a hundred children and teens were organized in four rows of respective heights and ages, so as the eldest and tallest stood at the back, but could face the crowd all the same; nonetheless, they were assisted by small steps.

They wore traditional blue-predominant uniforms, with the boys in social pants and shirts, blazers with the school crest sewed on their chests complete with ties, the girls with skirts reaching to the knee.

Red, brown, and blond hair made for several combinations with their varied eye colors, even the most notable Elysian addition to the genepool, yellow irises; and in front of them a woman with a strict expression wearing a simple black dress stood ready to guide their presentation.

At the base of the stage, officers wearing their gray dress uniforms, bearing medals, ribbons, and other honors; similar to the choir, their regent stood facing them instead of the crowd.

The senior naval officer below gave three taps of the regency stick on the transparent pulpit, and the audience silenced, as the performers readied themselves.

At the first introductory notes of the anthem, before the lyrics were sung, the large screen used for premium exhibits of movies lit up to images of the varied landscapes beginning with the capital of the Empire.

The Choir began to sing the hope inspiring anthem, guided by a the woman as she used her hand to guide and control their tone and tempo.

The first image displayed was that of the city that once was Zürich, at night, now called Imperial Center; the city was considerably larger than the 21st century metropolis, holding many more millions today.

The illumination coming from the cars and buildings shone brightly in the European night, as if a flowing river of light through the avenues, with the screen then progressed to show the city in daylight, with houses, parks, apartment complexes, and its cars and pedestrians in definition.

As the verses progressed, the screen displayed an aerial view of the Imperial Palace and the Royal gardens at full spring, with its multitudes of plants and trees.

Then, the landscapes of Europe itself were on display, from the flat steppes of rolling grass in Russia, to the warm and bright Mediterranean coasts of Spain and Greece, then the vast vineyards and wheat fields in Italy, moving to the forests and large rivers of Germany, Poland and Eastern Europe, the cold and austere mounts of fjords of Scandinavia, moving then to the temperate woodlands and beaches of France and England.

It panned out to show a spinning Terra, with cities lit on the night side, and blue mixing with green on the day side, the camera moved across space, until the Sol system was but another star on the cosmos.

It finally settled down in the Elánir system, known also as Alpha Centauri, moving to display another green and blue planet.

Soon enough Elysia and its two landmasses were on full display, with rolling hills and immense waterfalls, large snow-topped mountain ranges and forested valleys shared space with cities that seemed to belong to nature themselves, with the amount of green and flora they displayed and the rivers that crossed them.

The camera panned out once again away from the planet and the system, enhancing the brightness of both systems against the other stars, and distancing further and further, until their light became indistinguishable from each other.

Sol and Elánir became one against the galactic background, and soon the audience found themselves staring at a top view of the Milky Way, and then across the Orion-Cygnus Arm, hundreds of other stars began to have their light to shine brighter, while all the rest of the galaxy dimmed.

As the final strophes of ' _Risen from Ashes_ ' were being sung, all systems settled by the Empire were in display on the screen in a massive constellation; the image then changed to people and their everyday life.

Maglev trains carrying passengers and cargo across landmasses, factories producing industrialized goods, large automated machines harvesting grains and other produce, shipyards with workers and mechanisms laying down the hulls for new starships, mines and refineries extracting and transforming resources.

Then the image changed into parents walking with their children at a park, and people hurrying to work or college in the early morning, kids playing at a school playground; a nursery with soundly sleeping babies,the silhouette of a young couple kissing against the sunset on a grassy meadow, and an old one walking through a beach at sunrise.

Finally, as the grand finale to the anthem arrived, with the final notes and words resounding on the building, the screen shifted into the flagpole on the Imperial Senate, and the aerial camera circled the black, white, and gold flag, schemed into three parallel bands, panning out to show the front of the building.

The presentation then faded to black, accomplishing its goal: displaying then the banner of the Empire and the pride of its people to the entire galaxy.

The audience, filled with both government officials, millionaires, and media representatives, rose in thunderous applause and reverence to the presentation, with the children, together with the band, bowing to the audience as the ovation continued.

* * *

As with the many races that once were found by the Council, or associates, they underwent the traditional celebration festival, held on the richest area of the Citadel, save for the Presidium itself.

The Taralos Amphitheater was the ultimate expression of Asari architecture on the station by a long shot, built in white marble, contrasting sharply with the grey and coal-like colored buildings around it; and being able to hold a modest number of two thousand spectators when compared with the other stadiums through the galaxy.

Cinis was among one of them, sitting just below Dalatrass Erlana's VIP booth who came herself to the ceremony, eager to get insight on the newcomer race through their own words; and to further her own agenda, of course.

"I did not expect you to be here, Sajie." Cinis said, as the voice of her bodyguards informed her who was entering the booth. "I thought you were in breeding negotiations."

"They turned sour, and I barely had time to unpack and shower before my mother ordered me here" the other female said, taking a seat beside her companion. "But it was for the best, perhaps, we have much to discuss."

"That is true," the Sesoln heir agreed. "I figured the old families would ally themselves again…"

"Your mother terrorized the clans. To the outside the Union appears united, strong, but Nizen has an inflammatory speech," Sajie snorted. "It is no wonder my mother sought after you to settle things down."

"Well, if you ask me, the situation _is_ dire, despite any maneuvering my mother had done," Cinis turned fully towards the fellow heiress. "The galaxy knows nothing of the shadow war that is fought, on the fringe star systems, on the cold labs on our most secret planets, or even in the diplomatic halls here on the Citadel. Aunt Erlana seems to be senile at times. Were this in older eras, we would have struck at the turians already; instead thirty cells were pulled back from the border."

A small laugh was heard at the comment directed at the Dalatrass of Sur'Kesh; the heir to the Solus clan covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled. "That is true, she lacks… _pulse_ …what do you know about the humans and the elysians?"

Cinis considered the question. ' _What does_ she _know about them?'_

"What do you know about them yourself?" She tested the waters.

"I know that the humans and elysians seem to be similar to asari in many aspects, and different on many others." Sajie began, before turning her head away from the stage being prepared, and straight at Cinis. "I also know that we are the only young dalatrasses here. Given the situation, why is that?"

"…Captain Felorn, is this room safe?" Cinis said into her omni-tool, after seconds of matching Sajie's gaze.

" _It is, milady._ "The electronic voice replied. " _We have checked it multiple times, and placed image inhibitors, together with sonic jammers, on multiple places of the booth."_

"Very well…" She said, typing quickly into the haptic keyboard in her wrist. "We have entered in covert contact with the Interstellar Aryan Empire before they made first contact, and shortly after they made contact with the Asari Republics themselves."

Sajie was unfazed and Cinis wasted no time in continuing. "Stemming away from the public narrative, they have been apparently misled by the asari on their perception of the galaxy and emboldened to preemptively engage in false-flag operations aided by information supplied by Republican Intelligence Service against us.

"Then successfully escalating tensions between us and the turians by destroying _Sur'Hila_ and the turian own program, and bombing Kirunwe; all of this believing we were a threat, that we'd simply attack them upon first contact." She snorted at the notion.

"So thanks to the humans, the birds freaked out completely and destroyed the refining facilities with their third-gen Cabalites, assuming those acts to be our own doing, and sending that tacky video." Sajie interjected, showing no surprise at the revelations made by her far-removed cousin.

" _Correct._ " The green salarian confirmed. "My mother took the initiative, and utilized two assets, one of which was unfortunately lost in the DMZ to confirm her then-suspicions about information that did not match regarding the nuclear exchange at Tuchanka, and another on the planet itself that avoided direct hits by krogan nukes."

"One was a SIGINT team on the planet monitoring communications between the clans and CDEM's own transmissions," she explained, recalling the events. "The second asset was a subverted minor mercenary group which hijacked the ship of an Asari Matriarch, when STG noticed suspicious movement in her schedule at that time of the year; by that time we had already assumed alien interference."

She continued, forwarding the data to Sajie's omni-tool. "The band was then destroyed after coming under assault by unidentified forces with exotic weaponry, which have then retrieved the crew and the Matriarch; thus confirming our own suspicions."

"I assume your agent, or agents, were eliminated during the attack. Special forces?"

As the conversation rose their mutual interest, their speech turned more frantic in response. "STG equivalent, casualties were massive, electronic intrusion very advanced. Unconfirmed number of human forces; humans unwilling to divulge."

"Follow-up team on the scene found third-party survivor to the raid; information and evidence extracted and survivor liquidated." She forwarded the video recorded by the volus to the other female, three fingers flying over the orange keyboard. "RIS was contacted and issued ultimatum, the rest you are aware."

Sajie blinked several times, reviewing the information displayed by her omni-tool. "Humans and asari cornered and blackmailed into compliance with Nizen, brilliant. Contact over Tuchanka times later planned by you?"

"No, humans steal initiative and shape following narrative to their liking, lucky pond-jumpers, and managed to find those missing scientists, thus avoid trading slugs with birds." Cinis continued. "Asari channels not disturbed by that, no intelligence on their true role in these events."

"End plan?"

Cinis paused, taking a breath, then turned ahead to see the stage, which slowly rose back to the amphitheater main chamber. "The Vaerdall have ruled for far too long."

Sajie considered her words, and replied, turning to the stage. " _Yes_ , they have."

The male voice declared from the speakers on the amphitheater once again, as the lights dimmed on cue. " _The Imperial Ministry of Culture and Communications proudly presents the Citadel Council and the larger galactic community with our introduction to human and elysian history and culture_ , _with the presence of Crown Prince Constantine Valeri and Princess Consort Andromeda Vanyar._ "

* * *

Constantine thanked Mr. Wentworth, his boarding school rhetoric teacher, for vanquishing his fear of public speeches; long classes in which his mentor shaped him into a competent orator, if he could evaluate himself.

" _Another curtain_." Andromeda complained beside him, her presence also helping to dispel any tension on the man.

Her green robes were simpler, without the elaborated imagery, but regal nonetheless. He wore a black three-piece suit, with the diamond eagle-shaped pin on his lapel, instead of his Army uniform as he did on the formal meeting with the Council.

Constantine smirked. "You really hate them, don't you?"

"Too complicated to put on, too annoying to be on." She replied.

The podium ahead of them was simple, with a small microphone in the pulpit to enhance their voices through the amphitheater despite the acoustic construction of the room.

The stage rose, lifting him up to the flashes and applause of the spectators.

Asari, salarians, turians, raloi, quarians in the back of the building, elcor, volus, hanar with accompanying drell, even batarians, to the distaste of some; all were seated in either the general chamber or the VIP rooms, in a level above.

The only humans or elysians in the building were government officials, together with representatives from the Elysian Commonwealth, who remained in the private chambers to avoid fanfare.

Both groups had later scheduled meetings with the Council Ministry of Finance and Citadel Travel Advisory, together with C-SEC customs, to establish the conversion ratio between the Imperial and Citadel Credit, together with Commonwealth cryptocurrencies, and with the latter agencies to facilitate understanding regarding citizen travel.

He hailed them, not with an extended arm and straight palm, as he had once hailed the flag back in his early twenties, but with a raised hand and serious but friendly face, showing his palm towards the audience, side to side.

Andromeda simply bowed gently, closing her eyes for a fleeting second in practiced manner.

Once the noise diminished, he spoke. "The Aryan and Quendi peoples hail you."

He made sure to use both self-described cultural terms.

"In peace and goodwill, we are before you." Andromeda said. "Let the peoples of the galaxy learn about us as we learn about them, without prejudice and partiality, but with understanding and respect."

They had to wait another two full minutes of applause, before raising his hand, and effectively silencing the audience, as a light from the ceiling focused on them while the lights on the audience rows dimmed.

"Our societies have undergone fundamental changes in the past centuries and millennia, these revolutions have shaped thought, culture, and life of our peoples." Constantine said.

Andromeda completed. "These changes were both caused by nature itself, and by our own hands. Now, witness them, as we have seen and lived them."

The lights focusing on them dimmed, as allowed them to move in the darkness to the hidden sidelines of the stage, where the Royal Guard dutifully stood, hidden from the public view.

And so, as they went back stage, a brief history lesson on the two civilizations from Orion-Cygnus Arm began.

* * *

 _Taralos Amphitheater, VIP Lounge._

" _Not bad_." Cinis said to the salarian beside her, as she was served a Briss and yellow algae snack; an elysian snack made of a sea creature akin to a shrimp and marine plant. She stood on the exclusive lounge reserved for government officials and the important names who previously sat on the VIP cabins.

Sajie was beside her, with a slender crystal cup filled with French champagne in her hands, in clear display of political approximation between the Sesoln and the Solus to all onlookers.

All salarians in the room had their hoods pulled over their horns, and not down behind their robes when in casual occasions. The dinner party or reception party served only food and drinks from the newcomer species.

Together with the rest of the building, asari had built and decorated the space to their liking; plants and tapestries, along with labored stone were spread through the lounge.

And discreetly watching the two youngsters across the lounge, there stood Erlana, talking to the towering figure of a hanar herself.

"You mean the food or the presentation?" Sajie said.

"I think both," she replied. "She's talking to a hanar."

The Solus heiress snorted. "And trying very hard to ignore that we're here, but I saw a glimpse, or more like glare, at our direction."

The honored guests, humans and elysians, were afforded the courtesy of civilized talks and approaches, contrary to the hordes of reporters who piled over themselves to get a few passing words or recordings of the aliens.

C-SEC as usual held them at bay with their both holographic and physical barriers.

And inside, after the general invitees had departed, the diplomats, industrial and media moguls, along with the ever present financial executives and stock brokers vied to monopolize the attentions of the newcomers; but nonetheless, their education and courtesy spoke harder, if only by a thread.

Sajie and Cinis, on the other hand, were _royalty_. In their eyes, they wouldn't lower themselves to trade words with these types; they calmly awaited the approach of a human man, clad in a black suit with fine white lines running vertically over the clothes.

No diamond eagle pin, neither uniform, but a silver tie-pin was the only jewelry he carried; his black hair was combed neatly with gel, giving that distinct wet appearance.

His steps were calculated, and he carefully avoided the attention his peers were receiving, heading straight for the two salarian females.

"My ladies," He said, hiding his loathing for the pomp and reverence he had to employ. "My name is Mikhail, it has come to our attention that we have matters to discuss."

" _Our attention_ ; that is a funny choice of words, don't you think?" Sajie said, blinking upwards, registering the moment and the alien before her. "Not here, right Cinis?"

"Yes." She concurred. "Some here consider us to be…inconveniences."

The man turned, sharing a brief glance with Constantine, who was engaged in conversation with a pair of volus together with the Princess. A single blink of both his eyes was enough, and the Prince returned his attention flawlessly to the beings before him.

* * *

 _Kithoi Ward, Zellix High-Rise Apartments._

The flight, as Mikhail refused to call it drive, was uneventful at best.

They had taken a quick elevator ride to the garage, where an STG operative stood at the ready to escort them to wherever the salarians wished to convene.

The black aircar had the windshield raised, ready to be boarded by them; surprisingly, the two royals had the grace of ordering his small baggage to be stored in the trunk.

He sat in the back, together with the two heiresses, while the operative took the frontal piloting seat, with the co-pilot space empty.

When they leapt from the internal traffic tunnels in the wards and emerged in open vacuum, he knew they were not going to have a friendly chat in the Presidium, much less in the Sesoln or Solus embassy.

Not ten minutes later, they arrived at the place; and he could look through the tinted massive window of the aircar the triple silver monoliths, glittering in the light reflected from the nebula back to the Citadel and from the megalopolis itself.

The vehicle rose above their lane of traffic, and slowed down as the towers grew closer to the buildings.

He kept imagining which company would be the one to roll out of production lines the first human or elysian designed aircar; and when the ground cars, nearly a human art form, would make their own debut on C-Space.

He would bet it would be either Harper Technology and Manufacturing, or BMW, as he figured Ferrari, Porsche, or Lamborghini were too traditional to 'spoil' the craft. But only time, and profit, would tell.

"How do you build them?"

"You mean…?"

"The aircars," he turned toward Cinis. "How are they built?"

"It has and ion engine for movement and an Eezo module to counter gravity." The piloting operative answered. "Do not speak to her if you have not been addressed first, human."

His face betrayed no emotion, and he turned away from the young females, but the two of them could notice that his fists clenched atop his lap.

Cinis let out a sigh. The zeal of birth-imprinted subjects sometimes hindered practicality.

The vehicle reached a small slit on the upper penthouse of one of the towers, sliding inside the space with grace, and landing as gently as he could manage.

Touching the ground, they left the vehicle in short order.

"Captain Felorn, no need to escort us. Nothing will happen." Cinis said, raising her three-fingered palm to halt the operative. "There's plenty of security inside already."

"As you wish, Lady Cinis," the male salarian answered.

Soon enough, Mikhail had passed through a transparent door/window, and walked inside a sort of antechamber, where they were subjected to UV decontamination and X-Ray scan.

"Don't worry; you won't have to surrender that laser pistol of yours." The Solus heiress said, while looking behind her shoulder as the man followed them into the building.

The antechamber gave room to a corridors, with a lighting scheme giving an almost homely aspect to the ambient.

"I don't have it, since I'm not here to kill you." They entered a luxurious duplex; with the modernist design an on-demand commission for a celebrated asari architect, differing from the more-or-less similar layout of the other apartments.

Two of the walls of the living room were large glass panels, sealed against the vacuum as with all buildings in the Citadel; they quickly tinted black as they entered.

There were both sculptures and art pieces atop furniture made time of a material he could not describe, akin to a metal/plastic alloy, time black stone sparkled with lightened gray veils.

Touches of green were made present by plants both exotic and more familiar-looking to the human man; four large lamps in a thin elliptic shape hung down from the ceiling atop the living room and library.

Wooden shelves with an enviable collection of books were steps away from the living space, a small haptic computer stood atop a table together sprawled papers and writing materials; a quick glance revealed several sketches on those papers, be it starships, people, or nature.

"I imagine you are here to serve as a liaison between our clans and your authorities." Cinis sat together with Sajie on the dark gray sofa; servants eased them off their lengthy outer robe.

They quickly took the man's jacket as he sat too, paying no mind to the alien as he muttered a ' _thank you_ '. "I am here to ensure that our actions are in tandem as much as possible, and to avoid unpleasant situations such as the maneuvering we had done against ourselves based on false assumptions."

He paused. "More specifically, I am to be able to coordinate between you." As the two heiresses could see, he was not armed with either a blade or handgun.

"For how long?" Sajie questioned him, before turning to a servant and giving him an order in a low voice.

"As long as needed," he said simply. "Probably until you two become full-fledged Dalatrasses of your respective clans, and then I'll probably be replaced by someone else."

At that, he cut to the heart of the matter. "Now, we'd like to know how your mother plans to usurp Sur'Kesh from Dalatrass Erlana."

A serf brought three tea cups to the room, setting them and their saucers on the glass center table, careful not to spill the liquid on the rich rug beneath their feet.

"Thank you," the human said again.

"You don't _need_ to thank them," Cinis said casually while sipping on her tea. "Well, ancient law dictates that landed rulers may have their possessions usurped in case of general vote by immediate peers; that is, the Council of Dalatrasses, all voting in positive of stripping Erlana of her title, which is _not_ going to happen."

"Or," Sajie interjected. "The entire title, or portion of the heirloom, can be taken through simple brute force, upon signing of a recognized pact between the usurper and the dispossessed, and that can be done by simple warfare or covert action."

"The Council of Dalatrasses then assembles and decides if they will recognize or not the pact, again, unanimity is needed at such a high echelon of power."

Mikhail rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, placing his finished tea on the small table. "With lower rulers it is different?"

"Yes," Sajie said between slow sips. "Individual planets have different laws for local Dalatrasses, and we vie to limit warfare between their own forces, as that can cause quite a bit of chaos; so the most vicious infighting happens at the lower levels."

He simply nodded. "I assume you will be staying in this station for some time?"

"Well, yes," Sajie replied. "I was hoping to invest in some developments here myself while using the diplomatic stay; Cinis will probably stay as much as well, and you are staying with her clan I assume?"

He nodded. "Yes, as our principal contact was with her clan; you were an unforeseen but positive addition."

Cinis narrowed her eyes. "How can it be positive? Now they also share our coercive information regarding your contact with the asari."

"And we now have evidence of your planned treachery against your suzerain." He smiled. "It works both ways; do not assume we are not prepared for any sort of political fallout should everything come to light, but we have seen opportunities in this collusion that mitigate the distaste of our leadership."

"But as an official stance by our part, be ready to dial down any more blackmail, or coercive information, as you prefer," he continued, face returning to neutrality. "We stand to rise; we are the new potential card on the galactic deck, even now, dignitaries kiss the boots of our diplomats for leverage."

"Ask yourself, if Dalatrass Erlana found out you blackmailed us into cooperation and aligned the Solus to your cause of overthrowing her power, how would she react?" He shifted in his seat, leaning back.

"But ask yourself, if the galaxy was to know that the respectable Republics took direct action against their two oldest 'allies', if the galaxy were to know both the Hierarchy and the Union harvested thousands and thousands of Krogan to use as test subjects of super-soldier programs in a concealed arms race." He smiled.

"Are you ready to see the galactic order in upheaval?" He questioned. "I think not; information is the most powerful force in this universe, but you must be prepared of the consequences of possessing and using it."

Cinis and Sajie stood for long moments considering the human before them, blinking upwards as they did so.

Cinis opened a smile he could only identify as sad. "Indeed, my mother has not considered the full ramifications of actually going through with her threat."

"Our clans have survived in a very fine balance in the wake of the Second War." Sajie said, settling her cup down, and releasing a long sigh. "A Dalatrass must not put her clan in danger through inaction, as Erlana does with her overtly conservative posture, but she mustn't endanger her subjects through carelessness."

"We are collections of the whole; Solus, Sesoln, Vaerdall, the Ten." She continued. "Every salarian clan has a part to play in what makes the _Union_ a great nation and a state capable of standing on its own legs. Destroying that because of personal ambition is foolishness untold. My own mother has been ensnared in Nizen's fearmongering, I refuse to be."

"I do not want power, riches, a fancy title on an ancient piece of paper, neither the right to sit on a palace on Sur'Kesh. I refuse to be petty, and greedy." Cinis said, not looking the man in the eye, but rather focusing on a painting on the wall. "I want the Union to remain strong, able to determine a future for my daughters that isn't the lackey of a foreign power."

The man simply nodded, expecting them to continue.

"My mother has used these events in the last year to influence my upbringing, in relation to my political education." Cinis went on, focusing back on the man. "That is why she sent me here, along with Sajie and I intend to do as I was asked, to coordinate with your government in her place." She rose to her feet, to the curious gaze of Sajie and the serfs on the wayside.

"So, please, help me avert disaster, help me stop this path which will only lead to our destruction." She said with a clear voice, extending her three-fingered hand across the center table to the alien in front of her.

The serfs were distressed at the thought of an alien touching a treasured female, a future Dalatrass of the Ten at that, but they did not show it on the outside.

Mikhail rose and shook her hand, noticing the different skin texture. "The Empire will be pleased to work with you towards a better future."

It turned out the Director was right once again, the heiress was much more useful than the Dalatrass.

* * *

 _Pallas, 300 LY rimward from Sol._

"So your name is actually _Fernando_? Why haven't you told me that _before_?" Ayda asked him without a sign of irritation or hurt, but genuine curiosity, settling down her porcelain cup on the saucer; she loved red tea with strawberry cake, it seemed.

The sunset was a sight that ' _Flavius_ ', one of the most unconventional names the man who has always been Fernando had assumed, made sure to enjoy wherever he went. And staring at Ayda's red irises always reminded him of a binary system, ever since they met on that yacht on STC III.

The building they currently were on was a trade center, a vertical shopping mall of sorts; more specifically on an open air café, which enabled them to look the metropolis around, and the descending star, from a privileged position.

Fernando replied, sighing and looking away. "We always use different names on different missions, helps establish the persona, detach the personality you are using from the real you. Not that I was any different with you, though."

"And how am I supposed to know any better? You could be on an assignment now..."

A tired smile was all he could muster. "That's the downside of this job, even when you're not on duty, people who know you will always assume you are. The lines were always blurred perhaps…"

"Now, don't be so sad, I was only joking," she smirked, capturing his gaze again. "Your eyes are not so unreadable as you think. The way you talked to me then was different from how you talked to them, much like the light in your eyes; it is the same now."

"And we all sort of put up a persona there didn't we?" Her smirk turned into a soft smile.

"So…" She continued, upon seeing the relief flash across his face, and deciding it was time to voice her other questions. "What has prompted you to visit me? Despite hoping to see you again I thought we'd…never really _would_."

"You were away, and I was dealing with your government, intermediating between them and the companies." She continued, toying with the sugar spoon without really paying attention to it. "Why only now, I mean, it's been a _year_ …"

Her brown hair took different shades as the sun closed more and more to the horizon, from the lightened individual strands that shifted into gold, to the inner locks who took on a reddened hue.

The man seemed to hesitate to answer, but after another sigh, this time almost imperceptible, he said: "I finished my latest assignment, and…it was very _demanding_. I am on medical leave, being honest with you. I thought…"

"You are on _medical_ leave? Why? You seem fine as the day we met." She interrupted him, lying slightly regarding his appearance.

"I…" He tried to muster courage to mention the cause of his absence from duty, but he ultimately failed.

"Is it…" She probed quietly, biting her lip and switching her gaze between the table and his eyes."…psychological?"

" _Yes._ " He answered quickly, throat constricted and averting his eyes from her gaze.

He was caught off guard, as her hands crossed the table and landed on his own, pale skin contrasting with her black nail polish, enveloping them.

Brown met yellow, as her eyes were a mix of warmth and hurt, which he could understand as legitimate concern and tenderness if he were to guess.

Those were twin suns he would never tire to look at.

* * *

The short winter day was soon over, and the cold nightly winds started to make itself felt through the streets and avenues, people soon left the chilly parks for warmer indoors, either that of their apartments or of a commercial establishment.

Some however, had to choose their cars for the moment.

Ayda opened the silvery door of her parked car, shortly after both she and the human spy left the elevator, and quickly got inside in the backseat together with him.

"So, you don't like driving?" The man commented after easing himself into the seat, noticing the lack of a steering wheel or gear stick on the console while fastening his seatbelt.

Driverless cars could afford a tad more of space compared to the ones that enabled manned driving: A single elegant door on each side gave entrance to the well-crafted interior of the six seat vehicle.

Some models could offer things such as media suites or even small fridges on the center of the car, since all seats, more like opposite couches, faced each other.

"Mercedes, drive home." Ayda said the vocal command aloud, before turning to answer Fernando. "Yeah, I mean, I _can_ drive, but I simply don't like to."

The electric engine started without a sound, and the car turned on its lights while automatically adjusting the AC to match Ayda's preset configurations, leaving the parking space and driving towards the spiral path that led them out of the parking lot.

"Where you'll go?"

He made a puzzled face. "I thought you'd take me to your home, for all that talk about how you could cook better than the whole planet or something. Chickening out already?"

"Not _that_." The woman laughed. "I mean where you are staying, where you will go after that."

The car left the parking lot and slipped into the avenues and streets, obeying to a fault all traffic regulations.

" _Ah._ " Realization dawned upon him. "I'm at a hotel some two blocks away from here, where is your apartment?"

"It's on the other side of the city; I think you'll like it." She bit her lip, as if hesitating to continue, before turning to him completely, crossing her legs on the seat. "Why don't you move your things there, I've got a guest room. I mean, hotels are too impersonal…and, by what you told me about the…"

"I'm not sure…" He looked out to the window, interrupting her.

"I'm not luring you into a _trap_ , I just…" She put a lock of hair behind her ear. "I just want to _know_ that you'll get through this, and I want to help."

She then assumed a serious and knowing look. "Despite what I said earlier, I can clearly see that you've not been sleeping right."

" _Alright_ ," he conceded, after short consideration. "But only for this week, okay? Then I seek another place."

Her face lit in a satisfied smile. "You've got a deal, Mr. Spy."

He opened a true smile at the nickname she had devised for him, something he had not done in a while.

And there, as the car changed lanes, moving back to his hotel, he could perhaps see a future in where he knew who he truly was, a future in which he had not to kill those he came to care for.

* * *

 _Presidium, Docks._

The _North Sea,_ currently docked on the Republics section of the Presidium dockyards, was Constantine's personal corvette of choice for any official visit he performed.

"The salarians wanted more dreadnoughts, but did not want to lax regulations in WMDs." Andromeda sipped a cup of synthblood, sitting barefoot on the very same couch Constantine joined with Irissa, already in her pajamas, while the bottle remained on the small center table on the carpet.

Constantine completed, undressing out of the suit. "And the turians wanted to exploit the tactical and strategic possibilities nukes present, but did not want to lose their hold on the capital ship monopoly."

"And Irissa was in your pocket the whole time." Andromeda wasted no time. "How was it like?"

"I…" The man measured his words, pausing for a second as he removed his tie. "It is as if telepathy, for as _crazy_ as that sounds, she can willingly send me memories and feelings, and I could do the same; but only impressions, not precise and exact thoughts"

She pressed him further. " _And?_ "

The man made an annoyed sound. "I'm still addicted to you."

She lifted herself from the couch, hugging her husband from behind, resting her head on his back. "Elysian pheromones are stronger than any derma-electrical nonsense."

Constantine could only chuckle and nod.

"I'm…" She hesitated. "I'm afraid. Before, it was just us; no aliens, no _competition_ on any area, no danger, nothing but peaceful lives."

She sighed deeply, now into his chest, as he turned to embrace her too. "Now, we have to be playing politics with these beings, tip-toeing and making deals with people we can't trust."

"It is not what I would have wanted, neither for us or our children." She said after a few moments, while placing her hand above her flat belly, alluding to the baby she was now expecting.

"A galaxy with only humans and elysians would be _ideal_ , but reality does not conform to our wishes every time." He said.

"I _know_ …even if it were the asari it would be ok." She admitted, while exhaling. "There's no way we do not share a common genetic ancestor with them too."

"Then why not turn dream into reality?" Constantine said with sobriety. "Imagine the height of civilization we could achieve."

Andromeda was silent for long seconds, before bursting out laughing together with Constantine. "You genocidal goons…"

"But for now, we deal with the cards we are given." He said with finality, long after they had laughed together, placing his chin atop the golden lock on her head. "We deepen our ties with the asari, sort the salarians out, and see if the turians will make any rash move."

"Nothing like the War will ever happen again." He moved his head back and looked into her eyes, reassuring her. "Neither I nor every human alive today, elder or young, will allow that."

She deepened the embrace, sinking further into him, and said nothing else.

* * *

 _Published originally on the author's, personal blog, re-published with her consent by The Armali Post; 'Dawn of the 31_ _st_ _Century' by Elessaria Kyami._

Nearly a month ago at the Krogan Demilitarized Zone, the Council has entered in contact with another sovereign nation in the Galaxy. Amid the tensions ongoing due to the unfortunate series of events that have succeeded in the past year, this may be the most iconic beginning of a century in recent history.

As many of you have heard, the peoples who call themselves Elysians and Humans, reside in the region of space now formally accepted in galactic scientific circles as the 'Orion-Cygnus Arm'; a sub-arm between the Perseus and Sagittarius arms.

With over four hundred settled worlds, two of them being inside their capitol system, and the nearest being the Elysian homeworld barely three light-years away, the Interstellar Aryan Empire stands in just ahead of the Batarian Hegemony in territory, but behind in population, with 1.1 trillion denizens, compared to the booming 2.5 trillion of the batarian state.

And as we have verified through both official and unofficial sources, their GDP ( _IAE,Commonwealth_ ) rivals that of the Salarian Union, with education, being-development, and life-quality indexes matched only by the Asari Republics.

That is, this is no Raloi Federation of Nations, or to the older readers, Quarian Principality we're talking about here; that is, not some second-galaxy nation that is dwarfed by older states, much less third-galaxy dregs.

As we can currently understand, the galactic polity which holds the warmest diplomatic relation with the Empire is the Asari Republics themselves; a fact that has caused both relief and discomfort in the galactic community.

Those who follow my periodical reports and opinion pieces are knowledgeable of my strong opposition to Councilor Selemis's assertive foreign policy and the consequences that could bring to all Asari republics, but I can only say now: _Well Done!_

To the shock of my readers, I say 'well done' to Irissa's move in contacting the humans and preparing them for contact with the broader galaxy, as perhaps one of the most bold geo-political actions we have ever seen.

And it proved to be a correct judgment call, my own sources within the government have disclosed that the situation mentioned by Admiral Stranis, of the Turian Hierarchy were much more serious than revealed.

Instead of being saved from a slug throwing match with the humans by the supposed 'cooler head' of a nameless turian officer, the detachment was stopped in fact by urgent and stern messages from the Citadel Fleet itself to not respond with aggression under threat of court martial by Citadel authorities.

And to that I raise a question, just who would have enough raw _authority_ to stop the by-the-book, know-it-all, turian officers in their tracks with a single message?

The answer is pretty obvious to me, but I'll leave that conclusion to you, as this isn't a _tabloid_.

But the point is that it only proves that we deserve our fame for mediators and born-diplomats.

In the not-so-distant wake of the disaster that was the Turian-Raloi War, a massacre which the Hierarchy stubbornly dismisses as the 'Horn Chasm Incident', Irissa may just have averted a second edition.

In light of that, Irissa probably saw that she could not afford to let another nation be found and simply absorbed by the powers-that-be.

Because how can the Council claim moral authority as the peacekeeper entity in the Galaxy, when we have become accustomed to first contacts turning into wars? Or even more banally, when we can't approach the subject of constant colonial raids in the Traverse by inane batarian cries about culture?

If nations are cut down before they can flourish, what are we, if not oppressors cleverly disguised as liberators?

So, instead of being a placating voice in a room, or in a galaxy, where few bother to listen, and if we obviously can't be a strong arm to protect them (they already have those!), let us be a gentle guiding hand, that can lead such young and proud peoples, humans and elysians, to a brighter future.

We can and will guide them to a future, which the Galaxy and the Council, can truly claim to be at peace.

And for that forward thinking that was displayed by our Councilor, for the opportunities that this contact has presented, both socially and scientific, I can say that the beginning of the 31st Galactic Century is not another hour in a dark night, but the arrival of a luminous dawn.

 **Editor's Note:** _Elessaria Kyami is a well-known independent journalist who covers everything from fashion weeks to scientific breakthroughs and military operations in the Traverse. With decades of renown, a large readership, and a history of integrity, the editorial staff of The Armali Post has decided to voice her opinion, which usually differs from the post's own views and style, for the sake of plurality and at the request of our readers._

 _We deeply thank Ms. Kyami for her courtesy in allowing us to publish her article._

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, it's here. Thank you for reading and please leave feedback!

I reiterate that I accept both reviews through the site and through the e-mail informed at my profile page.


	16. Gathering Storm

**A/N:** Hey, I am sorry for the delay.

Circumstances, much like you'll see below, have forced me to delay this chapter by a long time. All in all, it is resolved now.

I hope you all like the chapter!

This was reviewed and edited by **Xabiar**.

* * *

" _Revered Father,_

 _I hoped to see you all in this leave, but the circumstances called for my service._

 _I am now participating in the exercises with the Vaerdall Space Force and other Union forces, I am sure the news has reported it at least in passing manner; the media must say there is nothing special to it, but I am not sure._

 _I do not complain; this is a great opportunity that the Hierarchy presents to me, and for that I am grateful. Our squadron is achieving good result, and although we are Council members, I am glad to receive a first-hand glimpse of the adversary._

 _We are commanded by General Desolas Arterius as you probably have heard; I imagine he will use this as more political capital for a promotion, but politics was never my forte, as you and mother know from my school quarterly reports._

 _I imagine you will be glad to know I scored two air kills against manned targets and four against drones., Tthis exercise has cemented my trust in my skills, and I have received a commendation from my squadron leader._

 _I am glad to bring honor to our family name._

 _I still await the conflict you predicted on my departure, now with renewed confidence and determination._

 _Truthfully, Teso._

 _22/07/3005."_

* * *

 _Imperial Center, Terra._

At 8AM the clouds prevented anyone from actually seeing the sun, but the morning rush came in full swing nonetheless as most daylight work-days began in either private business or the several public administrative buildings through the city.

Most notably, roughly two kilometers away from the Senate Square, stood the imposing image of the Solzhenitsyn Palace; a signature building inspired by the old architecture from Czarist Russia, with its cream-colored outer walls and turquoise rooftops characteristic of aged copper.

Near to 8-story building, the distinct 8m thick and 12m tall red walls faced both the E25 6-lane highway that ran adjacent to the Lake Zürich and the inner city; styled like the Kremlin of Moscow, thousands of kilometers away.

The 'fortress', beyond being used for the gathering of the group that Harper belonged to, also held the buildings for the General Staff of the Imperial Armed Forces Ministry of the Interior and the Department of Justice.

Guards from the FSB's Internal Security Troops manned the watchtowers, both patrolling along the extension by foot and watching the surroundings through camera feeds.

A nondescript black sedan parked in front of the heavy gate that blocked entrance to the Palace grounds; a quick verification was done, and the gates were opened.

The car drove inside, going past the inner chamber of the gates, where a guard clad in a thick overcoat and armed with a M74 glanced towards the car as it drove past his post.

The walls itself were a mix of layers of composite armor used in tanks and starships and shock-resistant concrete; inside they held the staircases leading to corridors and rooms for the guards, together with hidden IADS turrets for air defense with both 30mm and 120mm railguns against ground foes.

Once inside, Harper could see through the gardens, guards walked in pairs, usually accompanied by a K-9 unit.

As the car came to a halt at one of the multiple entrances to the palace, the driver left his seat, and walked along the car to open the door to the passenger.

A grim-looking Jack Harper left, wearing a heavy overcoat, buttoned at the front; black leather gloves on his hands, and a scarf around his neck.

" _Jesus,_ " he muttered as the cold air hit his face.

The officer driving the car chose not to comment, and instead closed the door, returning to the driving seat to park the vehicle inside the garage, while his passenger entered the building carrying a leather suitcase.

* * *

The interior of the building matched the exterior; rugs and tapestries along with paintings on the ceiling or on the walls decorated the place, with the many windows making good use of sunlight where possible.

Harper was now freed from his winter clothing, and sat in a long table along with other men of stern faces and some with slightly sleepy eyes. Secretary Kjellberg for example, had all but monopolized a thermos of coffee for himself.

"You're going to get an ulcer." Emperor Ferdinand said from the head of the dark wooden table, as Kjellberg poured another cup for himself.

There was a large glass panel behind him showing the lake and the city at large.

"And Harper is going to get _cirrhosis_." The man retorted, pointing to the man in question, earning chuckles from the other men in the room. "And that's only because cigarettes don't cause cancer anymore…"

" _Alright,_ " Ferdinand straightened his back, and spoke aloud for the records to log his voice. "The National Policy Council of the Interstellar Aryan Empire is assembled. The recording of this session is classified, and accessible to individuals with level Zero clearance only."

"First things first," Harper said a few seconds later, lighting up a cigarette. "The most immediate topic on the agenda is the relocation of the Seventh Turian Legion to Sur'Kesh for these alleged exercises; I want to hear your thoughts."

"Those are _rehearsals,_ not exercises," Supreme Commander of the Navy Alexandr Kalinin said immediately. "They will strike, of that I'm certain; despite ONI disagreeing."

"I doubt it; RIS says they've been rehearsing for something for months, but the media has hardly reported it." Erik Kjellberg, Secretary of State, replied. "You think they are positioning for real war, _now_? Impossible, this is a _political_ act."

"Why so?" Harper questioned, feigning ignorance, while turning his gaze from the military man towards the politician.

"War against us at this stage would be nonsensical," he explained. "The shock and uncertainty of first contact is gone already, now they'd paint themselves as warmongers, and suffer sanction after sanction from the Republics."

"What if it _isn't_ against us _?_ " Ferdinand asked, letting the question hang in the air. "Comrade Secretary?"

Sitting across from the high-ranking officers, and beside Harper, Secretary Basiewicz spoke on the behalf of the Department of Defense.

"As the Admiral said, the Office of Naval Intelligence has no reason to believe any troop movement in the Annos Basin general area precludes an attack on our territory." He looked to Harper, leaving the question unvoiced.

Harper produced a tablet from his suitcase. "External sources mention growing tension within the Union and its major clans; but they do not believe any major military action will take place."

"As I said," Kjellberg interjected. "A purely political act; the Hierarchy is afraid of showing passivity and arranged with the Union, or more specifically the Vaerdall, a little show for their lobotomized masses. Even now the publications and broadcastings are buzzing with the news about the deployment…"

"What if…" Supreme Commander of the Army, General Carlos Esguerra began slowly. "What if it is _both_? An outer meaning and an inner one: From what we know, the turians and salarians were slowly being brought to the brink, not only from our action."

"A reconciliation?" The Emperor asked, accepting the cigarette pack Harper slid across the table.

"Concessions, perhaps," the General mused, in deep thought. "She is a compromiser, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is, disgustingly so." Kjellberg spat.

"You mean to say that she is consorting with the turians?" Harper questioned. "We know for a fact that she has had a crash course over the last year, but to do such a radical change…"

"Perhaps she learned her lesson and is actually taking the initiative for once." Admiral Kalinin offered in support. "Perhaps she got scared of the treasonous talks of her cousin, perhaps she is actually de-escalating; the fact is, the turians have now a million troops in war exercises together with them, and we have scarce intelligence about their true intent."

Harper simply nodded, not looking up from the tablet he typed on.

"Next topic," Ferdinand said after a few moments. "The future of Imperial-Republican relations."

"As an addendum ― and I mean that as a formal recording," Secretary Kjellberg looked to the computer technician at the back of the room. "I want to congratulate Harper and Crown Prince Constantine, while _in absentia_ , for the _brilliance_ of that operation. I would place a vote for two Hero of the Aryan Empire awards were it not this endeavor a state secret, your ancestors would be proud."

"Thank you." Harper acknowledged with a genuine smile.

"That aside," the man declared, quickly filling another cup of coffee. "I propose we sign mutual-defense pact with them. That'll appease a large share of the matriarchs and the Republics; getting it through will not be difficult, if only the Conservatives agree, as the Party is in full agreement."

As the more militaristic aspect of the discussion went away, the civilians in the room, bar Secretary of State Kjellberg, made their entrance into the conversation.

"Your progressivism is unbecoming Erik, one would think you a reformer." Minister of Energy Eichwald replied with a sardonic tone to his voice.

"And your turtle-socialism would have accomplished nothing after 2100," the Minister of Communications and Culture, Alekseyev, shot back, before turning to speak to the fellow party member. "Although this back and forth is meaningless; how we are even supposed to present that? It _is_ too soon, comrade Secretary…"

"The Secretary lives in perpetual revolution; the fact is that commerce precedes military-political agreements." Minister of Finance Hayes said dismissively, motioning with his hand at Minister of Industry and Commerce Válek.

Válek understood the suggestion. "Diplomacy and politics is not our forte, but we believe that settling down trading settlements and initiatives both industrial and financial might ease further relations between us."

"You take me for a fool," Kjellberg protested indignantly. "When have I mentioned a fixed date? I said we merely _should_ , I wasn't expecting this to be settled officially by the end of the fiscal year, for God's sake…"

"I hear you, Erik." The Emperor said, earning a nod of the politician. "A formal defensive pact is definitely on the agenda, we have come to evaluate cooperation with the asari positive in the long-run, despite the earlier misunderstandings and mixed messages; in large part due to a series of factors all of you are aware."

"But what about the _numbers_ , Ministers? What do you have in mind?" Harper questioned, lighting a second cigarette.

Minister Válek typed into his own tablet, and the roof projector displayed a series of holographic pie charts and data at the table. "Well, to state general facts: the Republics control the production of 62% of the annual galactic output of Element Zero and the refinement of 45%, so we needn't even bother penetrating that market, we can just buy it from them at reduced prices."

"10% of the refinement and production is done at Omega Station; it is the main supplier to the Terminus systems, the rest is distributed to the other states." The man continued. "Now, the Republics are large exporters of high end technology, consumer goods, agricultural goods, services, ship-building, entertainment, and medicine-related items."

Hayes furthered the subject. "A purely turian economy is a poor joke, and they're kept going only by volus enterprises which rival the Republics. That is the sole reason why the Hierarchy has the second largest economy in the galaxy, followed by the Union, and then us."

Válek continued. "The Protectorate sells, buys, and administers for the turians in a large part, and interchangeably, turian geopolitical actions often must follow financial agendas of the volus. As a note, the Hierarchy is a direct competitor in the heavy industry, heavy transportation, and mining sectors, although we have decidedly better refining know-how."

"Memorandum 745 expresses the nigh certainty of the Hierarchy utilizing refined stelarite for electrical weaponry." Esguerra commented aloud, referencing the joint document both DARPA and the MID had produced.

Minister Hayes placated. "I'll get there, the subject is _complex,_ comrade."

"Then make it simple, Hayes. We have varying degrees of understanding in the subject, to be brutally honest," Harper replied, pointing to Esguerra and Kalinin, who seemed to take no offense. "And we would benefit collectively if you were more _succinct_."

Both technocrats made nearly symmetrical frowns.

Hayes face softened and he let out an audible sigh, and he began again. "The bottom line is, our involuntary autarky enables us to make trillions of credits; the Commonwealth will dive into their market like sharks sniffing blood and they will respond at the same height, but outside that scope, we can trade freely and largely on our own terms."

"Imagine," Minister Válek said. "Our range of trade is nigh limitless; we can sell high quality stelarite, orillium to mining companies, high-durability teldar infused industrial tools, not to mention consumer goods. With even rates between the Citadel and Imperial credits at 1:1.19 we can achieve fair deals with most entities and individuals while protecting our own industry."

"Only the Turians and the Batarians still retain their original currencies, mainly for internal use; all asari republics and salarian clans have fully adopted the Citadel Credit as their official currency." His partner explained. "We should encourage elysian banking conglomerates to begin buying foreign currency."

"Perhaps DARPA's research might be shortcut, or handed to them into a silver plate…I know one or two scientists who would kill for blueprints and technical know-how." Secretary Basiewicz commented, his ulterior motive clear.

Several eyes turned to Harper, who in turn turned to the Secretary of State.

"That is interesting, indeed." Ferdinand commented. "You will both see to it, right Kjellberg, Harper?"

The smoking man gave his characteristic smirk. "At this point, all we have to do is make Constantine ask the woman, and it will be done…"

He earned a round of snickers and laughter from the gathered officials.

"Next topic," the Emperor said. "We must discuss Operation Steel Rain."

"So far, we have ten Battlegroups in cryosleep awaiting activation." The Imperial Army General began. "The Sesoln were dissatisfied to our reluctance to reveal exactly _what_ measures we'd take, and where, in case of open hostilities; but so far everything goes smoothly."

"Demobilization after first contact enabled us the first stage of political cover," the Admiral continued beside him. "However, we have spent all our modular reserves bringing those new fleets online. At the current rate, we will have their parts replenished in ten years. That is, if we do not disassemble them…"

"No, now it is too late," Ferdinand dismissed, interrupting the man. "We'll slowly phase out their crews for new recruits though; we can move more experienced flotillas towards the borders while the newest fleets assume their place."

Secretary Basiewicz nodded and said after a few seconds of silence. "So far we have had zero incidents with foreign forces, save the stupidity of that officer on Tuchanka. And, on the operation itself, the battle plans are solid indeed; however, if Constantine manages to bypass the bans on WMDs things will be easier."

"Chemical agents are not within that classification though, that is a plus." Esguerra added.

"We have received intelligence on supposed stockpiles of NBC weapons by the Sesoln on both their planets and Vaerdall targets." Harper commented.

The General across him nodded and replied. "I don't know if they're unintentionally naïve, or simply believe that strongly in cooperation."

"Now all we need is a valid _casus belli_." Ferdinand declared. "Any ideas?"

"Justifying military intervention will not be hard, we simply can't use the word 'war'; since it is the very thing we have been trying to avoid." Harper declared. "Pacifism was never really a cornerstone of human society, much less our own."

"Popular support for the 'intervention' will simply be defined if we can convey the objectives and causes to the public; as it is known we can ignore elysian opinions on this." Ferdinand spoke with certainty.

Kjellberg interjected. "We all known their media and academia will only talk about the disruption of the flow of commerce and the financial burden on the entities involved."

"If they knew a _thing_ about war," Kalinin spat with disdain. "The Great Interstellar War would not have happened."

"Very true..." Harper commented, lighting another cigarette.

After a few seconds of silence, the military and political leaders seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

General Esguerra was the one to voice their collective thoughts. "…sophont rights violations, ethnic cleansing?"

"Bravo!" Basiewicz praised the man, with energy uncharacteristic to his usual persona. "With such a cause we would have unconditional support from the Republics, not even the other parties would be able to protest."

"But _now_ the question is how to generate such a crisis. Any suggestions?" Ferdinand questioned.

"If what they say about internal salarian wars is true, we don't need to generate the crisis per se, the Sesoln can do that themselves." Kjellberg noted, with his characteristic smirk. "The Vaerdall will attempt the complete elimination of all branches of the Sesoln clan; they number in 20 million individuals in total."

Basiewicz completed the line of thought. "Twenty million isn't a large number in galactic terms, but they are still twenty million beings, the large majority completely ignorant and innocent of any political scheming. Not a single one of the Republics will accept that."

"If what we assume earlier is true," Harper said, sweeping his gaze through each man in the room. "The Council will then be grinded to a halt, because to me it looks the turian Councilor will be most uncooperative to any asari-led resolution, and the salarian one is a Vaerdall himself. We can then, with unanimous support of the Republics, act unilaterally to stop it."

"…will the mobilized units be enough to fight on their behalf?" Ferdinand asked once again, after pondering for a few moments.

"Lightning war, sir." Admiral Kalinin reassured him.

"If everything goes as planned we can have all major relay traffic paralyzewd within a week, and if everything continues as planned, the bulk of their military-industrial complex paralyzed within a month of hostilities." Basiewicz elaborated. "And in a minor note, display a show of force to the galaxy, so they can know with what they are dealing with."

Ferdinand nodded, fingers picking at his moustache in an absently-mindedly.

He then at once stopped, and turned to look to Harper. "We need more information on the presence of Hierarchy troops on those exercises, and the implications that these developments carry."

He continued without wasting a breath, looking towards the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defense, then to the two military officers. "If we have sufficient intelligence to assess that we can carry out Operation Steel Rain with impunity, we will inform the Sesoln; if they don't oblige to our plans, we _force_ them to."

He then turned to Harper one last time. "That asset, how far can he go, can we truly manipulate her daughter?"

"Salarian politics and familiar relations are heavily influenced by the psychological imprint on their youth, but it is also defined by pragmatism and cutthroat tactics." The Director answered. "That being said, I don't think she is going to carry on through with it as far as _we_ want go, but that final information we can leave out."

"However," he raised a finger. "If the reports are accurate, we can manipulate her to certain extent yes, not the Solus heiress though, she is too headstrong, but Cinis yes."

"Then do it immediately, that is a venue of attack we can't let slip." Ferdinand declared. "All cyberwarfare operations are to be given priority to penetrations into Union and Hierarchy targets; that is valid for the Office of Naval Intelligence and the Army Military Intelligence Corps too."

"You have your assignments, this meeting is concluded." Ferdinand said as he raised from his seat, the other men doing the same. "Hail Victory!"

The men answered his salute in firm and clear voices, arms extended forward. " _Hail Victory!_ "

* * *

 _Farinata, Artemis Tau Cluster._

" _Sergeant Vakarian, overwatch_." Lt. Regitis ordered over their radio while his squads advanced from cover to cover behind the rocky landscape.

The non-existent atmosphere on FP-23 allowed the soldiers from the 37th Infantry to see the sea of stars above the planetoid, and if they knew where to look, they could also see the sparkling dot that was their cruiser.

Instead of the common armor soldiers wore within atmospheric conditions, he wore the fully-sealed version of it. His HUD indicated four hours of oxygen left in the canister behind his back added to the carbon dioxide that his rebreather reutilized.

" _500 meters, 20 degrees left."_ His spotter called out.

Castis Vakarian adjusted his sights, seconds later pulling the trigger of his Equalizer; nearly half a kilometer away from him a batarian mercenary had his head ventilated in a thin red spray, as the alien attempted to aim with his own rifle.

" _They're getting bolder, hurry up_." He suggested to his superior.

" _Acknowledged, Sergeant Vakarian_." The officer answered.

The squad soon maneuvered around the pinned slavers, as Castis kept a firing tempo. Soon enough, dozens of turians opened fire on them from multiple points, maneuvering in fireteams as the textbook dictated.

A flurry of hypersonic tracers coming from multiple angles decimated the money-hungry batarians.

As the soldiers did their jobs, Castis continued to kill one after another; there wasn't even time to surrender to the burst of fire from the Hierarchy soldiers.

The Lieutenant called over the radio. " _All hostiles down, moving towards the silo door…_ "

Castis watched through his scope as the soldiers hurried up towards the gray structure protruding from the ground, with the haptic panel glowing red beside the outline of a door.

' _Another day, another slaughter_.' He thought somberly, as he lifted himself from the ground together with his spotter, pressing a button on his rifle and making it retract itself back to a compact size.

* * *

 _HSV_ Magna _, Attican Traverse._

The action was over quickly, as always.

Castis sat alone on his bunk aboard the HSV _Magna_ readying his belongings for the trip back to turian space; in a month, he would hit thirty years old, and be put on reserve.

His only dealings with firearms would be the yearly surge drills, and teaching his children their way around DMRs.

That was about to crash down.

Lt. Regitis entered Castis's dorm without announcing his entrance, Castis stood up and snapped in attention immediately, placing his fist above his chest in the turian salute.

"It was a well done operation Sergeant." He said robotically, as the door swished behind him. "Your expertise saved the lives of many soldiers today. It will be unfortunate to have your unit detached from the 37th Infantry."

The officer was in the usual non-combat uniform used by turians officers, a light gray upper piece with golden lines running across the arms, and the symbol of the Hierarchy emblazoned in gold: a scalene triangle with the lowest acute angle facing upwards, from which the longest edge another three smaller triangles protruded, similar to the barbs of a fishing hook or an arrowhead.

The same symbol was emblazoned in a smaller scale on his cobalt colored chest vest, which held the metallic pins denoting his rank and name.

"I appreciate your commentary," Castis replied without enthusiasm. "And indeed, we will be detached; I do not know what will be the next posting of my partner, but I will be reassigned to the Reserves."

" _The Reserves?_ " The officer questioned, and immediately replied with a happy tone. "Not yet, Sergeant, in fact that is the primary reason for my presence here."

He produced a small OSD from a pocket, and handed it to Castis. "You are hereby ordered to present yourself immediately after our arrival in Sur'Kesh to the 27th Legion HQ; they will then direct you to your next assignment."

"The invoked section 84-B, huh?" The Vakarian elder asked rhetorically.

"Indeed, in my opinion it is an honor for you to receive such commendation at the end of your active duty career; you are indeed an esteemed soldier of the Hierarchy, it appears we all need your service at least for a little while Sergeant." The Lieutenant said, oblivious to Castis's distaste at the news.

"Yes, Lieutenant," He said dryly, saluting again. "It will be honorable to serve one last time."

The Lieutenant returned the salute, and exited the room, leaving the man to his own somber thoughts.

* * *

 _AES Intruder, Training Rooms._

"We _know_ you're stronger than all of us combined, Mayrithia, don't even pretend to state otherwise." Sgt. Werner had a carefree tone to his voice as he spoke, something strangely unsettling to the asari maiden.

The young commando sat on a small resting bench beside Xavier, and she struggled to muster a response. "I don't–"

"You haven't been pulling your punches? _Please…"_ Shepard laughed, sitting on the tatami ahead of them beside the senior man, sweat running down his face. "We're not dumb, but it's alright, we've been pulling somewhat too."

"Though not on the same _scale_ as you do."

She attempted to get help from Xavier, but to no avail he only offered her a bright smile. "We know you can move faster than you do, and hit stronger than you do when fighting us; you've got biotic powers that could fling us across the room, make us heavy as boulders on the ground, plus that warp thing, singularity, _charge_ …"

"Alright, ok," she admitted. "But it's not like _that_ ; look at the weight you two are lifting without biotics, for example!"

She bit her lip for a second before asking the humans. "Don't you feel uncomfortable, by the biotics I mean?"

Shepard spoke first. "At first it was weird, but after it became like... I guess, part of the show."

"He means that it doesn't matters whether we are or not uncomfortable or afraid, biotics are not going away." Werner chuckled, explaining in clearer wording.

"For example, elysians in general hate the fact that there exists alien life besides them, and us by extension, but they have to deal with it." Xavier added, receiving a puzzled face from the asari.

"They hate it? Why?" She asked.

"Ah… _well_ , elysian society was never of the tolerant kind." He answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mayrithia fell silent with a subtle frown on her face, not paying attention as the conversation moved on to other topics.

As Werner and Shepard returned to their weight lifting far from the duo; and after many minutes, both men had departed the area, together with any other crewmember that spent their free time on physical training.

Xavier left the bench after some time to finish his own exercise series, leaving her by herself.

Her attention was snapped back to reality, away from whatever thoughts she had, as Xavier's voice suddenly hit her. "Come on, I'm done, let's go shower."

" _Right,_ " was allshe said, following him out of the room without really paying attention.

* * *

The matter of sex separation in warships, military units, or bases was not an issue for the Imperial Armed Forces, as it was for the Turian Hierarchy, Batarian Hegemony, Illuminated Primacy Self-Defense Force, or even the Migrant Fleet Marines.

The notion of an Elysian being able to pass the training, or even voluntarily joining, was _laughable_ ; both due to culture and biology.

In a similar fashion, one would not see a Dalatrass commanding a salarian military unit if not from literal light years away.

But with asari, the waters became muddied.

Despite having what others have described to be maternal instinct, asari did not necessarily identify as female, even though displaying traits associated with the role.

As such, they used both male and female restricted restrooms and locker rooms on criteria such as the most empty, or the closest, or even mindlessly entering whichever their eyes fell upon first.

And on the _Intruder,_ with only two asari on the entire vessel, building gendered restrooms was nonsensical.

The shower area, pretty much equal in every ship, was nothing much beside rows of lockers and benches for changing clothes, and showers on the opposite walls; the big differential being that the showers were individual, separated from the room by opaque glass.

Mayrithia and Xavier undressed, putting their dirty clothes on the laundry suction tube; the ship's systems would take care of everything, on that part it wasn't so much different from any Citadel ship she served on.

Washing, drying, ironing, and then sending them back to each person's quarter or shared room. Beside identification on the uniforms, such as rank and name, digital IDs were also placed on issued clothing.

Within some two hours they would be awaiting in their rooms to be folded by the occupants.

The hot water hit Xavier's back with soothing pressure, the shower being set on a ' _massage_ ' water flux setting, similar to standing beneath a waterfall.

Dim vapor rose to the ceiling of the shower area on the changing room preceding the training space, the white lighting reflected off the steam, enhancing their stark whiteness.

He shut the shower off once he was done, picking up his towel from the small hanger near the opaque panel and partially drying himself.

He left the opaque glass box with the towel wrapped around his waist, walking away from the showers, then moving through the empty lockers.

Mayrithia was there, still dressed, and sitting on one of the benches that ran between the polymer lockers.

"Ah, hi-" the woman jumped at the sound of his voice, and rapidly turned to face him, but the man was unfazed and did not lose his own composure. "I thought you had already gone to the showers…"

"Huh, no…I was…I was readying...huh… some stuff." She replied, without stammering too much in her own judgement, but unsure if she should stand or remain seated. "Before going to the showers, I mean."

"Well, that's fine…" was all the man answered, awaiting her reaction.

"Oh!" Realization dawned upon the asari. "You want me to leave?"

"My clothes are on the locker next to you, and well-"

"No problem!" She all but flew from the bench, her own towel in her hands, hoping she was not blushing.

A loudspeaker suddenly came to life. " _All hands, the commanding officer will speak within the hour, all non-essential crew must report to the mess hall_."

"I must hurry then! See you there!" The asari said, walking rapidly away from him towards the showers.

* * *

 _AES Intruder, CO personal room._

' _Pop!'_

The cork of the champagne bottle went flying across the room, the only light came from the Dirac Sea outside, bathing the room in orange-gold hue; the soft sound of electronic music in the background set the mood accordingly to the Spectre's taste, which now consisted of a blend of human and asari songs.

"This drink is _delicious_." Nyava said after a long sip from her glass, easing herself on one of the recliners present in her room.

"Yeah, it is nice." Werner sat on the other one, accompanying her in drinking. "…it was a good year, your farewell speech was good too."

The asari nodded slowly. "We only had live fire missions twice, and only one of them together, the safest assignment I have ever received."

"I wonder what the real purpose of all of this was after all." The man couldn't help but say out loud. "We did collect intelligence through Citadel space undetected, but I don't know why-"

"Why they had two asari here too? When the mission could be accomplished with just you humans?" She interrupted him. "We're lab rats, if I had to bet."

"What do you mean?" He questioned.

"The powers that be want to see how asari and humans interact with each other and how well they can accomplish tasks together, if there is any natural… _friction_ …between our species and worldviews." She explained, pausing to sip her drink once again.

"If I had to _really_ bet, I'd say there is an intelligence officer or several among the crew." She added.

Werner sat in silence for some moments, pondering on what she said.

He turned to her, breaking away from his thoughts, and asked. "And what do you think they concluded?"

She looked the man in his eyes. "At worse that we can coexist very well, at best that the experience was a complete success."

"You know the crew won't respect your authority if push comes to shove, right?" He asked.

"Of course, we've already talked about this," she replied. "It is precisely why you are the executive officer. You should lead turians once in a while, and then you'd see what an uncooperative crew is…"

"Despite that, as that attitude is explicit in your military training as I have read, they have obeyed and were courteous to us," she continued, as Werner refilled her cup. "I am sure the friendship between Xavier and Mayrithia won't go unnoticed."

Werner nodded, commenting on the duo. "They're young, living the same experiences more or less; it would be no surprise to see them get close, as they in fact did."

"It'll be twelve hours for us to reach Mars, then we'll dock, and then…we part ways." Nyava declared after several moments of silence, looking into the bright expanse outside of the meter-thick transparisteel panel.

She looked away from the storm of hypermatter outside, and found twin blue orbs that met her own.

"I don't know what's coming ahead, I don't even know if we will see each other again." He put his cup in the small glass table between them. "I just want to say-"

"Sometimes you talk too much." The tone in Nyava's voice was unmistakable, and it quickly made the man silent.

She rose with the practiced grace and sultriness of her species, having long entrapped the human in a game of glances and subtlety.

Soon, the ISF Sergeant and the Council Spectre were themselves a storm; replicating the waves and inferno outside with their bodies and minds.

* * *

 _Sol, Martian Orbital Shipyards._

"So, I guess that is it." Xavier looked around the busy hangar, noticing that this particular dock was emptier than usual, given the secrecy of the ship it currently held.

" _Yes,_ " she replied, following his gaze around.

Mayrithia couldn't decide what to do with her hands, so she settled with holding the sling of the bag holding her possessions with both of them.

Silence settled between the two young adults, even in the constant noise of the hangar.

Behind them, the black form of the stealth frigate was docked, held in place by metallic structures, with crew busting to and from the access ports and cargo bay. Both Hammerhead gunships were being rolled out, with their fate unknown, much like their parent ship and occupants.

"Do you think we'll see each other again?" She asked the alien in front of her; who over the year they spent together, changed from an alien into a close friend.

"I know that we will do," He reassured her with a bright smile. "I've got your personal mail, the address of my apartment back on Tethys; in no time at all we will both be on leave and I'll show you every corner of Imperial space…"

"You're right…" She said, giving a smile of her own, smaller than Xavier's but with intense warmth to it.

Mayrithia seemed to hesitate about something for a second, biting her lower lip. She built up her resolve and said: "Then…goodbye, I guess…until the next time we meet."

She quickly close the small distance between the two of them, standing at the tip of her feet and giving him a kiss on his right cheek while closing her eyes.

She then leaned back, looking at him straight in the eyes for what could no more than a second, a time which seemed to last forever for Xavier. In those moments, all the man could register was her face, and the thumping of his own heart.

She turned and left, walking away to join an observing, and smirking, Spectre, on another exit to the hangar.

She looked back one last time, and waved, before walking away from his life.

* * *

"We saw it _all_ , before entering the capsule." Sergeant Krüger said as soon as Xavier rejoined them on the lateral transport capsule.

The capsule was used to transport people and cargo from one point to another along the immense circumference of the orbital shipyards.

"I…" The young man attempted to answer, as he took a seat beside his companions, but he settled for a question instead. "Have any of you felt like this? I…"

"There is a girl back on Eridani Prime, she works at an internet radio…she's into indie music and all that." Shepard offered him a gentle and understanding smile. "When my tour ends, I will go back and marry her; we will build a house near the beach with an oak tree on our yard, there I will make a swing for our future children."

Alenko, reserved as always, opened up. "I had one girlfriend once, she left me when I joined the Marines; she said it was easier to just kill myself."

"I don't know she still loves me, but I never tried to discover. I tried to know others after her, through the years, but it did not work out," he continued. "Maybe after all of this I will try and find out."

Silence settled between the four men, as the lights from the tunnel flew past the transparent roof of their capsule.

"I…" At the sound of their leader's voice, all three men turned their attention towards Werner. "I don't know if I ever loved a girl; I just wanted to understand the human mind my entire life."

"Joining college and then working at the FSB, then on the ISF when I got tired of interrogation rooms." He recalled. "I wanted to see people, understand why they thought as they did, why they took the actions they did."

His tone then took a turn they could only identify as regret. "I guess I paid too much attention on the lives of others, and neglected my own…"

"What did you find?" Xavier asked.

"This," he opened his bag and pulled two battered paper notebooks. "These are a series of observations, notes, and commentaries on the human condition since my early twenties; what I'll do after my tour ends, is that I'll organize it into a coherent volume and see if my old college will still publish it."

" _Then,_ " he said with finality. "I'll see wherever life takes me: spending time with my nephews, seeing my brother face to face after fifteen years apart, maybe finding one of those 40-year-old bachelorettes and having children of my own…"

"Or maybe not," he continued after a pause. "Maybe after, and if, I publish my book, I will continue in the obscurity of this job; sent to far away worlds to kill for the Empire."

"What now?" Kaidan spoke directly to the Sergeant, breaking away from the conversation's subject.

"Hell kid, I know as much as you do," the older man answered. "But we're going to the nearest space elevator, then planetside."

"My tour ends in six months." Shepard said, hopeful to hear a reassurance, given the implications of their route.

"My own tour ends in three." Xavier added.

They remained in silence after that exchange, observing their surroundings, the rapidly moving tunnel lights, or simply immersed on their own thoughts.

Not too long after, their transport capsule gradually slowed down to a halt, and they arrived at a boarding station much similar to the one they took next to the hangar where the _Intruder_ was docked.

They slipped out as soon as the glass door lifted, leaving the capsule vacant for other passengers.

The four black-clad ISF soldiers followed their instructions towards the space elevator, making their way through that particular civilian section of the shipyards to the indicated space elevator.

It was similar to navigating a busy train station, or the terminal of a spaceport; from large plazas and waiting areas housing hundreds of people, awaiting their ships who took off to a myriad of destinations, or who had just arrived and descended to the planet's surface, either by a private shuttle or through the public elevators.

As they neared their designated transporter, reserved for military personnel, they saw the ominous figures of two military officers waiting for them, one clad in the gray of the Navy, and the other in the traditional dark green belonging to the Army.

"This again?" Shepard said as they neared the two fellow servicemen, finally being able to distinguish the ONI and MIC insignias on their uniforms.

One of them had the grace of smirking in amusement, before speaking. "Gentlemen, please, follow us."

* * *

 _Palaven, Armed Forces High Command._

"It will be swift," Admiral Stranis said with conviction, eyeing her superior at the head of the long table. "The humans have settled their forces down to peacetime readiness by what we can detect, the asari remain inconspicuous as ever, as such we will have freedom to operate without any obtrusion."

"Once these exercises are concluded the salarian will bring forth the evidence of Sesoln participation in the events that succeeded in Kirunwe and Tuchanka." Herilus interjected. "Any asari veto will be overruled by me and their Councilor."

"I am sure Irissa will be surprised to have that slime deny her something in all those years." Primarch Cnater said with mirth in his voice.

As always, Herilus was the first to concur with him. "Indeed! I longed for the day when the asari-salarian coalition would be broken."

"About the so-called proof," General Kosei Sato injected himself on the conversation at last. "I have my reservations about it."

" _And?_ " The Admiral questioned.

"You believed that?" His response was accompanied by a glare. "The conclusion is valid enough, but the material proof is sketchy, at best. We ought to demand a more concrete and solid investigation."

"This is the STG we are talking about; they scarcely leave any proof of their actions." Herilus answered. "It is safe to assume that the ones best equipped to take on them and uncover their actions would be other STG cells and operatives."

"Who have no reason whatsoever to lie to us?" Sato asked again. "They could simply have manufactured the bulk of it."

"The truth, General, is that the veracity of it doesn't really matter." A diminutive figure spoke from the end of the table, in the distinct tone of a voice spoken through a respirator.

The glare that Sato had directed at the Admiral shifted to the volus, turning cold and disdainful instead of intense. "Mr. Vor, would you care to explain such an unhinged remark?"

"It is a perfect excuse to go war," Cal Vor, the liaison between the Protectorate and the Hierarchy said simply. "With such a conflict we will be able to destroy much of the salarian, particularly Sesoln infrastructure, we only stand to profit. Even better would be if such a war was to disrupt asari economic concerns, but alas, that is not the case now."

"With such a war, we can eliminate a large chunk of the Union's economic might, something that will cost the Union trillions of credits and many years to recover." He continued with the to the point tone of a businessman. "We only stand to profit from their brawl; all we need to do is lend a small support, a green light if you will."

"We only need our good Councilor to cast a vote, and Arterius to make a small show of force, which will no doubt uplift his political standing." Admiral Stranis concluded, motioning with her hand at Herilus. "Even you can see this, right Kosei?"

The man's glare subsided, with a blank expression taking its place, as he looked between the Admiral, the Councilor, and the alien.

"That is how it is going to be, Cnater?" He asked, looking the Primarch in the eyes, deep disappointment reflecting on his own eyes.

" _Yes_." The barefaced palaveni answered without faltering, but he quickly averted his gaze before continuing. "This meeting is concluded, see to your assignments."

As the powerful figures rose and left, Cnater and Kosei shared one last look; disappointment was mixed regret, and for a second Cnater's own gaze cracked, and the General could only detect the emotion behind it as sadness.

He quickly left the room, immersed in his own thoughts.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, yeah, that's it for today.

A shadow looms over the galaxy, and daggers move in the dark.

By the way, don't forget to leave me a review, they are greatly appreciated; and as always, thank you for reading my story.


	17. Blind Strike

**A/N:** Wrote this piece two days after posting Chapter 16, got to love these writing surges coupled with free time.

This is posted with the help of our good friend **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _AES_ North Sea _, Citadel._

"You're leaving," Irissa stated matter-of-factly, repositioning her head to look at the human whose arms she rested on.

"I have to," Constantine replied, turning on the bed to face her. "But I'll be back; you will visit the Empire too, either officially or on recess."

The discontent was clear on her expression. "But will that be enough?"

He cupped her face with his free hand, and she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. "I can't live here, you _know_ that."

"What if you could actually live here?" She opened her eyes again, staring straight into his own.

"What do you mean?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"You should be the first human Councilor," She said plainly, elaborating on the idea a moment after. "Serve for five years, then your father resigns and so do I; I pull some strings on the Republics to elect someone not too radical, and once she gets within the status quo, she'll play along."

She then finished, as if the subject was as simple as she made it to be: "Then I become a sort of ambassador to your government, or simply retire, and go live in human space."

The Prince kept silent, considering her words.

"I can't answer you now." He finally said.

"I understand," she said smiling softly, before giving him a light kiss. "I have all the time in the world."

* * *

 _AES_ Intruder, _Martian Orbital Shipyards._

Shepard took his seat among the sea of black uniforms and berets, but beside his previous squad. The briefing room of the AES _Intruder_ was familiar, albeit only being used by them scarcely on their time with the two asari.

Now, with a fully human crew, he could feel that they wouldn't be bound to the necessities of the alliance with the asari.

"An entire fucking ISF _platoon_ ," Xavier whispered as the man took a seat beside him and Alenko, adding his voice to the common murmurs around them.

"We're going in heavy," Shepard answered, looking around. "That's four fireteams of five."

" _Shut up_ ," Alenko admonished, leaning forward to look past Xavier.

The room was large, the ISF operatives were seated orderly and whispering among themselves, with their two leaders missing for the time moment, only six of them stood silent; Krüger and Falkner were fetching what they assumed to be the leader of this whole operation.

At the sounds of footsteps entering the room, all servicemen motioned to stand and salute, but were cut short by a firm voice: "At ease, gentlemen, but don't get too comfortable,"

Former Lieutenant, now Captain, Edgar Hill, the previous commanding officer of the _Peregrine_ , walked into the room in long strides, followed in tow by the also newly promoted Lieutenant Werner Krüger and his new subordinate, Sergeant Alan Falkner.

The trio went ahead of the room, and the MID agent settled in front of the soldiers, being flanked by the two operatives, a large flatscreen behind him.

Instead of the myriad of clothing he could be wearing as a MID operative, he wore a gray Navy dress uniform instead.

"As some of you already know, my name is Edgar Hill, I am now the commanding officer of this ship," the man declared, straight to the point, eyeing the gathered soldiers before him. "Some of you had been pulled from different active service units, others had served with me on the _Peregrine,_ and others served on Object 889 already."

The new soldiers were too professional to begin murmuring again at the presence of their superiors, but their imaginations ran wild with the last phrase.

The man let the soldiers ponder for a few seconds before declaring: "Twenty four hours ago this operation was authorized by the Commander in Chief of the Imperial Armed Forces."

Their interest picked up again in full force at the mention of the Emperor himself, the gathered operatives somehow standing stiffer on their seats.

Hill traded sideways glances to the two Lieutenants beside him, who on cue stepped forward to speak.

"I am Sergeant First Class Alan Falkner," The black haired officer began. "And this is my colleague Lieutenant Werner Krüger; we will be your officers for the duration of this mission."

"Out of his platoon, only six of us have had no contact whatsoever with forces belonging to Citadel-related civilizations and entities. Please stand." At Werner's command, the six soldiers stood at the front row of seats and saluted, and all eyes were trained on them.

Falkner was quick to continue, as the six soldiers sat again. "We expect the rest of you to integrate and brief them on the particularities of the enemies you have encountered so far."

"Without further delay, I will commence the briefing of our first assignment." Hill said, diminishing the lights on the room significantly and turning on the panel behind him, typing in a small device in his hands. "Only questions pertaining to the mission are allowed."

The panel flashed and lit up, displaying a series of astronomical coordinates and images; a small planetoid was displayed under the light of a blue main sequence star. "You are looking at Yanis IV,"

"It has an acceptable gravity and breathable atmosphere, heavy forested with roughly eighty percent of the surface covered in water," the intelligence officer explained further while pointing at celestial body, allowing for another couple of seconds of pause before continuing. "We have identified the presence of a Hierarchy military installation on this planet, our task is to assault it and take any valuable information and personnel contained there."

A young man raised his hand far to the left of Shepard's seat, a dark silhouette in the dim lit room.

" _Speak_." Hill said curtly, face darkened by the digital screen behind him as he turned to face the operative.

"Are we at war with the turians?" The figure's voice sounded in the dark. "I'm sorry, but we have been without external contact for these past hours."

"Of course _not_ ," the intelligence officer said, opening a dark smirk. "This mission is off the are not here and this ship does not exist."

* * *

 _Yanis IV, Operation Gemstone._

More than a hundred light years coreward of the Aralakh system, nearby the green and blue expanses of a planet, the black frigate emerged out of a singularity in a flash of ionizing radiation and visible light; its passive sensors scanning its surroundings for tense moments as soon as the radiation dispersed.

The ship activated then its internal emissions sink, becoming cold and non-radioactive as possible.

Quickly after, the graviton generator shut down, stopping the maintenance of artificial gravity on the decks, and powered up again generating two opposite attraction and repulsion fields ahead and behind the ship.

Over time, the ship established an equatorial orbit around 300km above the sea level of Yanis IV.

The three MQ-250 Predator drones detached from the hull, plunged into the atmosphere as gently as they could, using much less potent artificial gravity generators as their parent ship.

Once within the atmosphere, the stealth UAVs spread themselves far and wide from each other as they circled outside the defensive perimeter of the turian facility, providing surveillance and early warning for the ISF teams soon to follow in their wake.

* * *

Three MHA-44s dashed across the thin upper layers of the atmosphere in supersonic speed, leaving thin white contrails of condensed air behind them, and encountering far less air resistance and consequently lift than in lower altitudes.

" _Sierra 1 to Sky Eye, we are penetrating enemy radar range now,"_ one of the original pilots of the _Intruder_ , Cpt. Paul Fisher, callsign _'Swordsman'_ , said after establishing a tachyon datalink with the starship above. " _Going UFO, over."_

" _Acknowledged Sierra 1_ ," the voice in his helmet replied stoically. " _UAVs report no emissions after the initial burst; good luck, Sky Eye out._ "

The sun was high in the sky, and the green colors of the rainforest vivid in the ground.

The three aircraft suddenly lurched, as they killed their engines, going forward through inertia alone, then gravity manipulation.

'Going UFO' was the technique Imperial pilots utilized to cruise through an atmosphere with minimal venues of being detected by enemy systems.

The craft shut down the heat-intensive metallic hydrogen engines, dispensing a short stream of NO2 around their engine nozzles to kill residual heat, then switched the artificial gravity generator to flight mode; doing the same process as the drones and the ship performed, generating attraction and repulsion areas around them.

The real and significant drawback of this was the greatly reduced airspeed, in the case of the MHA-44, it dropped from 925 km/h in the lower atmosphere to a meek 300 km/h.

The three black craft began their descent and deceleration in a steady rate, as obsidian-black birds on the hunt. They made their way across the blue sky of mid-day, until they hugged the wide canopy of trees, vivid colors of green and sparse yellow, in a multitude of alien species.

Their paint scheme then changed itself from the non-reflective black to a woodland digital pattern, to better immerse themselves in the environment.

Thirty kilometers up in the sky, circling like vultures, the drones used their passive scanners to search for any sign of hostile activity.

Not fifteen minutes after they began to fly low, the three gunships began to space themselves out. Two of them separated from the flight, de-accelerating and banking, stopping mid-air above a water stream.

Two lateral doors opened, sliding across the fuselage towards the aircraft tail, together with the rear ramp.

Four ropes shot downwards from each one of them, and black clad figures rappelled down, hitting the ground and immediately securing a perimeter around the landing zone.

The rest of their teams followed without wasting time.

As soon as the last soldier landed, the ropes retracted back as quickly as they extended from the transports; and with a swift movement that rustled leaves and disturbed the water on the stream, the gunships left, leaving the soldiers on the ground.

* * *

" _The drones will stay up in the air in a-grav for 12 hours, before needing to revert back to the engines to not overstress their generators_." Xavier said over their comm channel, crouched down and armed with his M45, speaking directly to the two officers ahead of him. " _The ambiguity of the facility is about 20 kilometers in radius."_

They weren't exposed anymore, moving from the river banks toward the deep jungle; around fourteen soldiers stood around spaced out from each other, facing all directions for incoming contacts.

The four engineers stood at the center, discussing with their leaders the current situation.

Much like their aircraft, their fatigues and armor, together with their weapons, adopted an adequate camouflage pattern.

" _If they cannot detect any sort of emission from the turian facility, or spot it through imaging scans, we'll have to use active sensors and the spy satellites to sweep the area."_ Private Statnik completed. " _This has a chance of alerting them of our presence_."

Pvt. Walker looked to his companions before turning towards the two lieutenants. _"We were talking with the technicians back on Sky Eye; we don't think thermographic imaging will yield any results in this thick of a jungle."_

1st Sgt. Falkner looked away from the engineers towards Werner; with the previously black visor camouflaged like the rest of his body.

" _We can't possibly cover this area on foot, even if we spread out the entire platoon_ ," he said, shaking his head.

The first lieutenant, and commanding officer of the platoon of ISF operatives, pondered for a few moments.

He suddenly spoke over their channel, his helmet rising to face the engineers. " _What are the chances that they'll interpret the tachyon sweeps as a sensor and not simply cosmic background radiation?_ "

Cpl. Alessandro Speros, one of the newest additions to the crew of the _Intruder_ spoke up. " _I wouldn't risk it, they may have a flotilla in waiting, and it would be best not to put the ship in an unnecessary danger._ "

His three colleagues nodded with their heads in agreement.

" _Alright, we'll split up, squads spread out two kilometers apart, Infiltrator teams will move as forward detachment_ ," Werner said at once, standing up. " _We're going ahead sweeping in slow march_ ; _give the drones another four hours while we go further inside the ambiguity area, past that and we sweep it with tadar_."

" _Falkner, you take your original squad, I move with the rest,_ " he ordered the Sergeant, who nodded as he listened to his superior. " _If you get a sight of the enemy yourself, radio us, extremely short range_."

With that, the group dispersed to join their respective companions, and then separated again, moving further and further apart in the thick rainforest.

Werner had gathered his own fireteams, now fully complete and with human personnel, and established two parallel lines. Shepard walked alongside him brandishing an M80 while Werner himself carried an M74 rifle.

Behind them, the new additions kept up the pace through the foliage; Pvt. Ryan Sterling and Cpl. Sven Edgren walked with identical weaponry, M74s with M280s grenade launchers attached.

Further on the back of the line Xavier and his new partner, Cpl. Alessandro Speros, kept one eye on the vivid jungle and another on their heartbeat sensors, sweeping the area with the muzzles of their M45s.

On the rear, Pvt. Owen Turner and Pvt. Kenneth Rodgers kept their flanks secure, looking through the red-dot sights of their laser rifles.

The jungle was thick with foliage, reminding the soldiers of the Amazon training fields back on the N7 training course.

The trees were high, beam of white light pierced their canopies, and their helmets broadcasted the recorded sounds of the birds and other creatures that flew, crawled and ran through the forest.

Minute after minute they went on, unaware of the closing objective, neither of what it contained.

* * *

" _Swordsman, we should retract the winglets_." Stalker called out to the pilot over their internal channel.

" _Acknowledged_ ," the pilot replied, pressing a button on a touchscreen panel beside him, his right hand moving away from the joystick.

The stealth gunship moved hugging the green expanse below, and soon the two winglets on its flanks retracted back into the fuselage, sacrificing maneuverability for a lower radar cross-section.

That was only possible because the craft was clean of any ordinance on them, carrying only the missiles in their cheek internal bays, and the retracted railcannon on the nose.

The passed streams and low hills at no more than 300 km/h, making only a low swoosh noise directly below them and emitting nearly zero heat to the ambient.

The clear skies had given place to a collection of grey clouds that now reached the horizon.

As they flew past the crest of a hill, an electronic tone suddenly sounded to both pilots, breaking the customary beeps of their cockpits and the sound of their own breathing.

" _Electromagnetic emission, standby for ID,_ " Stalker said, checking his instrumentation. " _Radio burst. It's patchy, but doesn't look like it is natural._ "

Swordsman pondered for a few moments, and replied. " _The UCAVs probably have detected it, and are triangulating on it now. The question is, to whom are they emitting a signal?_ "

" _What are we going to do?_ " His co-pilot questioned.

" _I'm breaking comm silence_ ," he answered, fingers flying across his panel, while his left hand gently pulled the joystick towards him, gaining altitude with the aircraft.

Swordsman looked up, and saw on his helmet HUD the outline of a blue diamond high up in the sky, indicating the friendly contact.

He pressed a button and spoke: " _Sky Eye this is Sierra 1, we have identified non-natural electromagnetic emission, awaiting directives, over_."

The narrow tachyon emission pierced the atmosphere and shot into the vacuum faster than light, and was quickly picked up by the orbiting frigate.

" _Sierra 1 standby,_ " the voice replied immediately.

After short moments of silence it spoke again. " _The Predators have detected it too; Sierra 1, your aircraft now has primary command of drone units, coordinate between them, ground forces, and all Sierra callsigns to locate the precise emission point."_

" _We'll be without line of sight within fifteen minutes, it will be an hour before we have LOS again, Sky Eye out._ "

The operator on the _Intruder_ referenced to the fact that they'd now be below the orbital horizon, and lose a direct line of sight with the area of operations.

Swordsman pulled his joystick again, and his aircraft lurched up again, now at a thousand meters above sea level.

" _Hunter Actual, Sierra 2 and 3, this is Sierra 1, acknowledge transmission, over_." He broadcasted through the air, tachyon waves spreading over the region.

The replies came immediately. " _Sierra 2, transmission received, over_."

" _Sierra 3, transmission received, over_."

" _Hunter Actual, I'm listening, over_."

" _We have detected EM signals over a broad area; Sky Eye has given me primary UAV control, we will link sensors and triangulate the signal, over_." Sierra 1 declared over their net, answering the acknowledgements.

He looked to his left, and the blue diamonds of the fellow gunships and the drones came online, and as the craft began to circle, loitering over a determined area, he could see on the distance behind his previous bearing that four blue 'Xs' appeared too, indicating the two ISF squads and the detached Infiltrator teams.

" _Estimated ambiguity, over?"_ Hunter Actual questioned.

" _Two kilometers in radius, the area appears to be a plateau; we are twenty klicks southwest of it, over_."

" _Perfect, it will be dead on the middle of it, the GARDIAN towers will probably stand on top of the surrounding hills. Can you verify, over?_ " Hunter replied.

" _Positive Hunter_ ," the pilot answered, before shooting a question of his own. " _How fast can you make it to the edge of the ambiguity area, over?_ "

" _Half an hour, it will be no problem; they don't appear to conduct any sort of perimeter patrol. This site is probably really remote, over."_

" _Alright, we'll identify the towers; you decide the next course of action then, Sierra 1 out_."

At the command of the gunship, the three drones high in the sky began to accelerate out of their hovering state, slowly reaching the same airspeed as the controlling aircraft.

They dived down to three kilometers above sea level, with their multispectral cameras focusing on the area determined by the Hammerhead, converging on the plateau.

" _IRST Contact, bearing 090, fifteen kilometers_." Stalker suddenly called out.

" _ID?_ " Swordsman questioned with alarm.

" _Focusing_ ," the co-pilot said, as if talking to himself, before giving a definitive answer. " _A-61 Mantis, altitude one klick ASL, it looks like it is RTB_."

" _So that is why there was a radio signal,_ " Swordsman mused, looking in the direction of the enemy gunship, and seeing that it was now a green square on his HUD; the infrared search and track system translated the IR image into a trackable contact to the aircraft's system.

He now had a decision to make, engage the enemy gunship and alert the base of their presence, or let the aircraft go, and have to deal with it later, but preserve their own stealth.

The gray clouds had turned dark, and now a downpour began to fall.

" _Assume direct control over one of the drones; follow his flight path with the camera_." Swordsman ordered his copilot.

As Stalker typed on his own console, a screen in his instrumentation panel switched from pitch black to a black-and-white FLIR camera feed in a top-down perspective, with the Mantis gunship centered; its engines were two bright white spots, leaving behind them a jet of heated air.

As the sensors of the gunships and drones had been fused, the gunship appeared inside a green rectangle on the drone's camera as well.

" _Switching to visible light_ ," the gunner said, typing a command in his console.

The infrared feed changed into the green of the jungle, and now the man could see the camouflaged fuselage of the turian gunship; the image was impaired by the heavy rain however.

After a few more minutes, the gunner called out in excitement. " _Bingo!_ "

As he followed the flight path of the Mantis, he suddenly saw a gray structure protruding out of the jungle. " _First GARDIAN facility identified, marking coordinates_."

" _Good job,_ " Swordsman congratulated him, before reiterating his order. " _Keep following him_."

" _Roger._ " Soon enough, he could see a larger facility comprising of prefab buildings and some he could identify as reinforce stonework; the gunship slowly bled airspeed, and hovered above a landing pad, then it touched down, and taxied inside a hangar.

" _Objective located_."

* * *

" _Approaching facility,"_ Werner said over the net, closing on the GARDIAN tower. " _Keep me updated, Alenko."_

" _Affirmative_ ," the man replied over their short range channel, with the rain giving slight interference to their signal, as he observed their initial target from atop a tree, unidentifiable from the foliage. " _The tower has a fenced perimeter with watchtowers along the fence, fifty meters of open ground to the fence, with a hundred meters of paved ground until the tower proper. There is only a single gate."_

" _Describe the watchtowers_ ," The Lieutenant replied.

" _Standard prefab, two armed guards, searchlights, and what appears to be thermographic sensors."_

 _"On my mark, you and Marchetti burn the ones on the one facing south of the main tower,"_ their superior ordered, referencing to Alenko and his new partner. " _As soon as you do it, wait for the next thunder to drop the guards, whether they are on the ground or still on the watchtower."_

 _"Roger that,"_ came the response.

Alenko centered his scope on the small camera fixed on a post along the fence, and lowered the power setting of his M212.

" _Three…two…one…mark!_ "

An invisible near-infrared beam shot from the laser sniper rifle straight into the lens of the camera, burning the delicate IR and UV sensors with focused heat; similar to how the flash of a nuclear explosion could burn the retina.

However, it was orders of magnitude less powerful than the lethal beam the weapon could shoot, so it did not heat the air on its path thus not causing the distinctive _crack_ of the expanding gas.

Before he could declare over the radio the completion of his task, the world lit up as a lightning bolt streaked overhead.

Both he and his companion set their sights on the two turians, with Alenko readjusting the power setting on his weapon, and all soldiers waited for the impending thunder.

It came with violence, and the two turian guards dropped dead with smoking holes on their chests the size of footballs as the second team took their shots.

" _Good work, approaching outer fence now,_ " Werner said over the net.

* * *

" _B_ _reaching,_ " Speros all but whispered on their channel, as he pulled out the plasma torch from one of his leg pouches.

Standing on each side of him were the two grenadiers, Edgren and Sterling, ready to move inside after a hole was open.

The fence was a near solid wall of vertical and horizontal steel bars, instead of a net of steel; the rain had intensified, and their boots were a mix of pixelated green from the camouflage and brown from the mud.

The torch lit up in a bright spot, and the engineer began his work.

Droplets of rain hissed as they flashed into steam, coming into contact with the steel and the plasma as he melted the metal bars in a wide circle, and pulled it out as if it was the entrance of a sewer hole.

The two soldiers moved inside, stepping on concrete, quickly taking cover near the watchtower; the rest of the team move inside after them.

" _Speros and Alonso, move up inside the structure and reach the top, we'll stay on the ground level_."

The two men complied quickly, moving to the grey building next to them, typing in the green haptic console next to the lateral door.

They jumped inside, expecting enemies on the ground level of the tower, but found nothing but chairs and desks and a small water heater and microwave oven; probably used by the guards on long and boring night shifts.

On the far wall there was the beginning of a spiral staircase; they moved in a hurry, eyes trained on the sights of their SMGs as they climbed, and leaving mud footsteps on their way.

The top level of the tower was just slightly taller than the forest canopy, overlooking the descending jungle and the wide expanse beyond their hill crest.

Two dead turians lay atop wide pools of cobalt colored blood.

" _Computer console found_." Xavier said as he sidestepped the corpses, releasing the M45 to hang by the shoulder belt, pulling his Engineer Interface.

" _What do you plan to do?_ " Werner questioned over their comm channel from down below.

Xavier looked to his colleague crouching beside him, who simply nodded, and replied over their squad radio. " _I'll upload a couple of gifts to their network_."

" _Go ahead_."

The senior engineer pulled an adapter cable out of his interface, from USB X to Citadel Universal, and connected on the console.

Swiftly, two programs were now running on the local computer, and then spread themselves to the mainframe over their shared network.

The screen on the digital console flickered for a millisecond as the software began to act.

" _Designating targets…done, all of you check the GARDIANS_." Xavier called over their net.

Kilometers apart along the plateau, the four AA laser turrets sprang into action, the GARDIAN turrets were alike ground telescopes; white domes that opened to expose their laser lenses to the elements.

The turrets turned on each other as if on a gunslinger standoff, to the terror of their technicians who frantically tried to take back control of their systems.

Speros looked up from his own interface. " _They'll get them back soon_."

" _It'll be enough_." Xavier said, smiling behind his helmet.

The towers opened 'fire', and shot each other at the same time, sustained infrared beams flashing the rain between the towers.

Xavier looked up and he could see the metal of the nearest one melting at the sustained laser, and soon, all four of the AA emplacements went offline as they committed mutual suicide.

" _Fucking brilliant,"_ Werner called out on the radio as sirens and klaxons began to sound around the perimeter. " _Let's move out of here and move towards the main base, Sierra 1 light 'em up._ "

" _Roger that, LT._ " The pilot sounded over the common channel.

Turian after turian began to pour out of the main tower holding the laser, scouring the grounds for intruders.

Lightning fast 30mm cannon fire began to cut them down in a series of explosions as the rounds impacted the ground, with bits of concrete and bodies flying around.

The watchtowers still manned by Hierarchy troopers were engulfed in flames as ATGMs from the Hammerheads slammed on them at hypersonic speeds, the sounds and shockwaves of their impacts reverberated across the AA facility.

Now that the anti-air threat was neutralized, the MHA-44s exposed themselves fully, descending from above the storm clouds and, closing the distance between the outer jungle and the hilly formation, with their metallic hydrogen engines flaring brightly in the dusk.

The carnage was complete, the other constructs were ablaze by the impact of the anti-tank missiles and the perimeter expanding from the laser tower was riddled with impacts from the nose mounted railcannon of the human gunships.

In a loud swoosh and whine, a camouflaged gunship circled the tower once to bleed airspeed, and stopped to hover near the only intact watch post.

As the downpour continued, the aircraft lowered even further near the ground as its cannon swept across the tower grounds looking any other threat, and landed.

The two lateral doors slung open, sliding across the fuselage, and the back ramp lowered down; the soldiers rushed out and boarded the gunship, including the two snipers, emerging out of the jungle and running up to the hole in the metal perimeter.

They boarded the transport and took their seats beside their squad mates, quickly holstering their sniper rifles above their heads on the fuselage, and picking up two M99s for themselves.

The gunship took off, closing only the main ramp, leaving the side doors open as Shepard and Werner stood before them, strapped by their waists on the ground as their legs dangled out of the Hammerhead.

As they left the hilltop, another gunship surged from the jungle and formed up on their left.

Werner eyed the rapidly moving jungle as the gunship closed the two kilometer space between the GARDIAN towers and the main facility, and spoke on the shared net:

" _Sierra 1 and 2, we'll drop near building 1-C, after we drop you and Sierra 3 ruin the hangars and prevent any enemy aircraft from taking off, then set the drones to loiter overhead and jam any communication_."

The three pilots replied in unison. " _Roger_."

They were soon upon the facility, with grey buildings and pavements below them.

The aircraft lurched, and they could hear the sound of the railcannon spitting ordinance at the ground already, 30mm rounds flying off with a velocity of three kilometers per second.

" _Prepare for touchdown…three…two…one_."

Shepard and Werner already jumped before the gunship touched the ground, with Shepard quickly lying prone and sweeping his line of sight with the sights of his LMG; towers similar to the ones on the AA site burned on the perimeter, wheeled vehicles on the pavement between buildings were ablaze, their hulls pierced on multiple places by the dispensed ordnance coming from the gunships.

The rest of the operatives followed shortly, and to their immediate left Falkner's own squad dropped down, linking back with them and forming a circular perimeter of fire around their landing zone.

" _Finally some action for us, Lieutenant!_ " Falkner said, running up to Werner as the general alarm sounded, amid the downpour and explosions, as the three gunships now opened fire on the hangars, with missiles and railcannon fire.

" _You sweep those barracks; we'll go to the central building and clear it, then we work our way around_." Werner ordered, not wasting time.

Falkner gave a quick, quasi informal, salute and turned away from the Lieutenant, shouting orders for his own squad on their comm channel.

" _Let's move!_ " Werner said to his own soldiers, who quickly got up and sped along their officer.

They reached a two-story prefabricated building, walls made of metal, instead of the hard concrete of the ground, without windows, with a large satellite dish on the roof, and a series of antennas.

Standing out was a flag pole, with the Hierarchy flag hoisted up.

" _This must be the command center_ ," Werner noted.

" _Three contacts, six meters_." Speros said, looking to the heartbeat sensor on his forearm.

Sounds of grenade explosions came from the barracks, together with laser and ballistic fire, as Falkner's squad did their work.

" _Line up along the wall, Alenko and Marchetti take point with me, I'll send them the imperial greeting_." The officer said, loading a grenade on the launcher underslung on his rifle.

The door swished open, and immediately ballistic fire came from the other side, traces flying at hypersonic speeds out of the building as the soldiers inside expected to find enemies behind the door.

They instead only saw the open expanse of the pavement and the quick motion of a an arm sticking a weapon inside the door; Werner pulled the trigger on the grenade launcher, and the HE-FRAG projectile exploded at the end of the corridor, silencing the enemy fire through shrapnel and overpressure.

Three ISF soldiers entered the building, moving out of the rain into sterile metal; the two snipers now wielding the microwave shotguns flanked the Lieutenant, who reloaded his grenade launcher.

They sidestepped the remains of the turian soldiers, with their bodies shredded by the shrapnel and bleeding, limbs in strange angles.

The group entered a cargo section of sorts after one of their Engineers hacked open the door past the corpses; crates littered the place, with magnetic cranes on the ceiling and the beginning of a staircase on the opposite wall.

" _Contacts approaching, take cover_." Werner said, as his forearm sensor displayed green dots approaching.

The team dispersed instantly, hunkering down behind crates and metal surfaces.

Shouts and orders in an unintelligible language came down from the staircase and soon they died down, with silence reigning on the cargo hold, being broken only by the occasional thunder.

The human soldiers heard the soft pinging on metal on metal, and they watched as two grenades fell down on the stairs to land on the entrance chamber on their own level, and suddenly they began spewing white smoke.

As they spent themselves, the lights went out.

" _Crafty,_ " Shepard commented, as his helmet turned automatically to a heat gradient vision, due to the lack of natural lighting.

Turians began to spew forward from the stairs, bright red and yellow figures in a sea of cold blues and purples.

Bright beams of heat to appear in the visions of both Hierarchy and Imperial troopers, and their firefight began in earnest.

Unfortunately for the turians, the firepower balance was unequal, and three well-placed grenades ended the contest as soon as it had begun.

" _Shepard, take your fireteam to the left door, I'll go up on the staircase._ "

They broke cover and moved with their respective formations, with all opposite numbers splitting up.

Shepard went to the left of the cargo hold with Speros, Alenko, Sterling, and Turner, with the rest of the team moving with Werner.

Indoors, the armor of the ISF operatives had already reverted back to the standard black, save for the mud stains on their boots and ankles.

They opened the left door and faced another corridor, this time illuminated by an emergency red lighting, and their helmets switched back to visible light again.

" _Alenko, with me,"_ Shepard ordered as the unit advanced to the end of the metal tube to the constant sound of the general alarm.

" _Empty space ahead_ ," Speros said from the back of the formation.

They soon went beyond another door, finding what appeared to be series of bunks and consoles on the walls and on terminals near the bunks.

A sole turian laid on one of them, with IVs protruding out of his arm, and a respirator mask attached to his face; his hands and feet were bound to the bed by what appeared to be synthetic material.

" _Interesting_ ," Alenko commented as they passed down.

" _What is this place anyway?"_ Speros asked.

" _We'll find out, keep moving."_ Shepard said, checking his own sensor. " _Six ahead_ ,"

Another door bypassed, and Alenko's reflexes proved essential once again.

Two quick microwave blasts from Alenko's M99 were enough to turn them into melting flesh, before the two turians facing the door could take aim on the soldiers.

The other four had no chance, as two of them were facing another door perpendicular to the operatives and the other two had their backs turned to the humans.

The room appeared to be a transition room between different spaces of the building, as it had no furniture save for the hasty barricades

" _We're not done yet, let's go_ ," Shepard ordered, relentlessly advancing through the command center, specifically to the undefended door.

* * *

Werner looked around the C3 center, with bodies laid on the ground and bent over the consoles, cobalt blue flowing down the floor and the computers.

" _How much long will you take?_ " He said to Xavier, who occupied the vacant seat left by a turian technician.

Alonso looked up from the console towards the officer, his expression hidden by the helmet. " _Even with the aid of software, we're skimming through more or less 120 petabytes of data for anything relevant; give me some time_."

A snarl came from the edge of the room, as a human operative kept an irate turian subdued with no effort.

"Speak to me, _alien_!" The turian shouted, staring holes into Werner.

The human ignored the officer.

" _Hunter Actual, building clear, we've found a restrained individual on a medical bay down here_." Shepard suddenly called out on their net. " _No casualties_."

" _Very good_ ," The Lieutenant acknowledged the report on the internal channel. " _Regroup on me."_

As if on cue, Falkner chose that moment to report too: " _Hunter Actual, this is Hunter 2, barracks clear, vehicle garage clear, fusion generator clear; Wlostowic and Radvila ate some grenade fragments, but nothing vital was hit, they have already been treated with medi-gel, and I took one of those grain sized slugs on my abdomen_."

" _I assume you are stable?_ "

" _I'm fine, they're grain sized after all_ ," The man replied casually, Werner could almost hear the shrug in his voice. " _Great speed and penetration, punched straight through armor, but lacking the stopping power of a proper bullet; I applied medi-gel just in case._ "

" _Regroup on the landing zone, comm the gunships to wait us there; I'll rendezvous with you shortly-_ "

"Answer me alien!" The commander screamed again, both arms held in place behind his back. "You killed my men, show me your face!"

Werner pressed a button on his helmet, setting it to broadcast his voice. " _Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up; sedate him Edgren_."

The soldier produced a small plastic syringe with clear red liquid from one of his pouches, not larger than his thumb, and injected the sedative on the turian's neck.

The officer went slack shortly after, slumping face first into the floor.

"It's a prison," Xavier suddenly exclaimed. "The cells are underground."

* * *

"And just who are you, _human_?" Battlemaster Urdnot Wrex said from inside his cell with bitterness clear on his voice, behind a door weighting no less than 5 tons of reinforced steel.

The corridor had the same red lighting as the ones above, indicating the state of general emergency the base found itself.

" _A statistical improbability_ ," Werner answered. " _The fact that you seem to know what species I belong to indicates you've not been here long_ , _why are you arrested?_ "

"Do turians ever need a reason to ruin your life?" Wrex looked at the men outside with his deep red eyes through the small slit on the door. "Maybe they are trying to hunt off the last influential Krogan after…after what happened."

A pause. "Are you going to free or kill me?" He asked again, this time not rhetorically. "If the latter, do it already; if it is the former, give me your name and I'll see if I _agree_ to go along with it."

"I am First Lieutenant Werner Krüger," The man said, lifting his helmet and meeting Wrex's glare with his own impassive scrutiny. "Imperial Special Forces."

Wrex sniffed the air two times, and then gave a long sigh. "Two doors to the left there is an idiot that fortune has chosen to be my brother; Urdnot Wreav is the name."

"If I free you, you won't be truly free for some time, do you understand that?" Werner asked.

"Yeah human," Wrex dismissed. "Your people will have to make sure I don't go off telling everyone that you smoked a turian black site, I get that; I played this silly game of statecraft once you know?"

"Good, then we'll have to kill your brother." The operative said, gauging his reaction to the imposed condition.

Wrex surprised all of them, as he gave a hearty and deep laugh, displaying the sharp teeth on his wide mouth. "I was just about to ask you to do that!"

Werner blinked twice, and then chose not to comment, turning his head towards the men behind him.

"Alenko, _do it_."

The helmeted soldier moved to the indicated door, levelled his M99, and shot three times, sending powerful microwave blasts into the compartment with absolute silence.

He moved forward and slid open the small hatch, being met instantly by the stench of melting flesh.

Alenko returned to flank his superior, who had taken a step back from the cell door; Werner nodded to Xavier, and the young man typed a command into his interface.

The door slowly slid open to the side, and Wrex stared down at two M99s being wielded by Marchetti and Alenko.

"I am a man of my word, humans, you just solved two enormous problems for me; the first being my freedom and the other being my brother," Wrex said, crossing his meaty arms. "The _least_ I can do now is not attack you."

* * *

 _AES Intruder, interstellar space._

Hours later the action planetside had died out, Captain Hill reviewed from his seat at the bridge the documents the operatives had seized, after the vessel had destroyed what remained of the facility and AA towers by repurposed space-to-space Sunburn torpedoes.

The SS-N-65s had streaked down the atmosphere and struck the surface with violence, each one of them delivering 10t of pure orillium, being a hundred times more efficient than TNT, delivering effectively a kiloton of high explosive.

The facility was all but rubble thereafter, burying any evidence for the future investigators that would certainly arrive once it stopped reporting periodically.

Now, all that was left was returning to Imperial space after the _Intruder_ finished dissipating built up heat to the cold vacuum, and delivering Wrex and the turian commander to be handled by someone else.

He scanned the files one by one with the help of the system to summarize those over ten thousand words.

His eyes met a folder extracted from the commander's own terminal. He clicked it by no particular reason, and came across a series of files named by what he assumed to be dates and letter codes.

He opened one of them, and saw it to be utter rubbish, nothing but a wall of text made up of different characters and numbers.

"Computer, run the seized decryption keys on those files." He voiced the command, tapping the arm rest of his chair.

" _Processing_ ," came the digitized voice from his console, and after a few minutes of continued failure, it chirped up again. " _Match found, displaying decrypted documents_."

Hill opened the same document again, now in readable Imperial Standard, and after reading a few paragraphs his eyes widened.

"Communications!" He stood up at once, and bellowing an order to the technicians on the crew pits below, startling the officers as if he sounded the battle stations alarm. "Open me a QEC channel with High Command _now_!"

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope all of you liked this chapter, and I really wish you told me what you thought about it. Please send me a review guys, tell me if you liked it or if you hated it.


	18. Eve of Destruction

**A/N:** Hey! I have nothing to say here this time.

This chapter was edited and reviewed by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Citadel, Kithoi Ward._

The man sat comfortably on one the guests' armchairs, one hand resting atop his lap, and fingers intertwined. His expression was calm, yet serious; his beard was long and thick, full of silvery strands.

His robes were black as the night, humble, and the only standing adornments he wore was a wooden cross hanging on his chest, and a golden ring crested with a single emerald on his right index fingers.

He did not wear a liturgical hat, and his equally gray hair was free, with more black strands than his beard.

The aliens before him were impressed, if he took a guess at their reactions to his person and demeanor.

At how a human aged, at the plainness of his attire, at the reverence he commanded from the other humans that had accompanied him.

Different from one of those other shows, ' _Citadel Insight_ ' was aimed at a more learned audience, usually interviewing one or two guests and without any stage audience.

"Mr. Andreyev, I appreciate that you could come, and apologize for the travel you had to do from the Empire to the Citadel." The asari host greeted.

He only nodded, noting the absence of his religious title in her address to him.

The host then turned to the other guest, and bowed with her head as she continued "And Matriarch Benezia, your presence is much esteemed by us all, may the Goddess bless your path."

The other asari did a hand gesture that the Patriarch recognized as being used to represent unity in siari: intertwining her fingers and elevating the joined hands almost to the chin.

The woman turned to him. "I am not officially connected to the Temple of Athame anymore, having fully embraced Siari, but I believe in interfaith talks, and I am eager to discuss our respective beliefs, Patriarch."

For a second he did not know what to think, but then decided to be courteous.

"It is good to be here," he said simply.

"We have seen the videos; we have read the articles, but out of your own mouth and through your own words, Patriarch Andreyev. What are the different human faiths?"

"Perhaps we should have been clearer; there is only _one_ faith," He answered, looking towards the alien in front of him. "Once there were more, but no longer."

"Today, there is only the belief in God, and the faith that binds men together. The philosophy and understanding of ourselves that help guide human actions and reactions." He continued, timing his phrases.

"Unity seems to be a recurrent topic; what exactly happened so that the other faiths have been forgotten?"

"War, of course," he answered without faltering. "The victory of our civilization and people in perhaps the most defining conflict in human history is what has made our way of life possible, and the others impossible."

"As is known, there have been no instances of religious warfare in asari history, all of them contribute to our multiple faiths today," Benezia said, choosing that moment to comment.

' _That is maybe why they are all without any meaningful substance.'_ The man thought, before replying. "War is the continuation of the struggle of the human being against the condition; seeking liberation, either physical or intangible, or seeking fame, glory, material wealth, or an abstract ideal such as religion or ideology, or simply fighting for his fellow human being."

The host appeared slightly combative. "And why destroy the faiths, instead of taking all of them as the collective heritage of your people?"

" _Precisely_ because they are not the heritage of our people," He answered, slightly narrowing his dark brown eyes. "Constructs which have nothing in relation to anything today, and much less any relevance beyond mention in history books, and the scholastic preservations in our own tomes."

"If your definition of being preserved includes merely informative books about the footnotes of centuries past; then yes they are preserved."

The alien in front of him nodded and pondered, before continuing with the schedule. "About politics; you talked about war as if a common human endeavor? Is it?"

"War is both the imposition of the political will of a government into an out-group and the human struggle against condition," he explained. "A short look at a single century of human history; choose any one of them, and there will be a war."

"I understand you are not condemning human society for this?" He asked slowly "This would be dishonesty of the highest order, as the Council too has its share of conflict…"

The host could see that this was as far as she could go before conflicting with the alien in front of her. "I beg your pardon, Patriarch; I did not want to impose my own bias against your way of viewing the world."

"In any case, we do not justify our acts save for our own fellow man." He stated, asserting his position.

"But within a broader galactic context don't you think that this would be necessary?" Benezia interjected. "After all we are a community."

"No, not really," The man said honestly. "To whom do we owe deference? What overreaching body or alliance? The Council? Or perhaps to the Galactic Trade Organization?"

"We are alien to those entities as they are to us, we have not participated in their inception, as such their moral or otherwise authority over the internal and even external affairs of the Empire is nonexistent." He shifted slightly on the armchair, now turning to look at Benezia.

"In a Siari, and ultimately relativist, worldview, why must a single way of politics and governance prevail? Who is the moral compass in the universe?" He questioned.

"The morality of Siari is compassion for the fellow being in understanding that we are ultimately derived from a single universal energy." She said, avoiding confrontation.

"We must face reality as it is; fleets and armies, industrial facilities and economic bases, those are the _true_ means through peoples and governments impose ideologies or guarantee their self-determination. Platitudes and philosophies are in the end motivators, not institutions." The man wouldn't relent; he would not let the veiled insults go unanswered. "No nation in history has survived by having simply a moral high ground over their adversaries; instead they become footnotes in the memoirs of their conquerors."

"This reverts to what I have said earlier, to the human spirit, conflict is as natural as any other action." He finished the topic.

"We appreciate your insight," the host said, attempting to diffuse the growing confrontation. "Onto economics, many have described the human financial model as either 'pure genius' or 'statist abomination'; how would you describe it?"

"It is nothing but means to an end." He sat straight in the chair. "The purpose of governments past was to achieve fiscal responsibility and austerity, to answer problems engineered due to their own actions; today it is simply a tool for guaranteeing living standards and human dignity."

He spread his hand as if displaying something evident. "The Commonwealth is different, it is radically capitalist, and operates on different precepts and under different legislation than an Imperial commercial enterprise for example."

"The senate will decide the course of action to be taken in relation to the galaxy at large under an economic standpoint." He intertwined his fingers atop his lap and went on to add, with a smirk: "Protecting human concerns of course, as is natural."

"But see, Ms. Liessa, and Lady T'Soni," the man continued. "Not _everything_ is conflict, I have read asari publications, and listened to erudite songs of your own, and I can see that your culture is _rich_ , unbelievably rich."

"I see here, two people whose alikeness are not simply biological, and in mere appearance." He declared. "But rather in the Faustian soul, of searching for something, yearning for beauty, for a higher level, be it of culture or consciousness, souls that seek both something alike and different from them across the cosmos."

"I see a great future in the cooperation and friendship of our three species." He said with finality, and by the end of his tirade, he managed to leave two looks of approval on the asari before him.

It seemed his rhetoric classes by late Fr. John at the monastery had paid off.

* * *

 _Terra, Central Command Bunker._

Never had the Swiss Alps been so militarized as in the 26th century.

Space defense emplacements and communications sites shared space with the two complexes belonging to the FSB and MID together with the HQ of the 1st Imperial Army Battlegroup.

And underground the Imperial palace itself there stood a sort of situation room for the ruling monarch.

Several men were gathered inside a dark room of large proportions, seated in a long table forming a semi-circle whose open side faced a flatscreen akin to a cinema and a holographic projector

"…Under the current situation, the documents indicate an imminent threat to the Sesoln clan, as the Hierarchy has an additional 80 million troops at the ready to strike at any given moment; we can only guess at the ground troops displaced by the Vaerdall, but we can assume they have substantial naval assets online." An officer dressed in the Army green stood at the center of the semicircle, motioning to a holographic image above them, his tone was devoid of emotion as he stated the facts.

"Object 889 is returning to deliver retrieved intelligence and re-arm spent ordnance, and can be used to penetrate their defenses within a day." Another one wearing the navy gray continued.

"We have as of today twenty two Battlegroups in cryosleep awaiting deployment, together with the Marine contingent of the 27th and 66th Strike Fleets," he continued, as the holographic image shifted into a representation of the space between the Sagittarius and Orion arms, highlighting the systems where the troops awaited. "The 345th fleet is positioned to leave the Widow Nebula in 12 hours together with the _North Sea;_ it has been idle during the stay and can be used to begin relay blockades in a moment's notice."

"Another fifteen battlegroups are in staging areas and due to depart to cryosleep positions by the end of the week, together with the 82nd fleet." The Army officer explained further.

Ferdinand sat at the center of the table, flanked by several officers to either side, and with Harper at his side.

"…how much time have we left before the salarians put things in motion?"

"Thirty six hours at maximum, according to the documents," Harper replied, looking between the man and his tablet. "Are you going to warn them?"

"No, not anymore," the response was quick. "We need to see how they react when caught unaware, both the salarian and the asari, I want to see what they would do in normal circumstances, their gut reaction so to speak."

"And their surprise will lessen any suspicion that we were working in concert." Admiral Kalinin said to his left.

"Activate the fleets," he ordered at once. "As soon as their diplomat is walking the Council Chamber's steps I want the frigate to be inside their territory, don't attempt to avoid detection by their gravity sensors, lure them into a chase, and make them scramble interceptors."

"That should delay them while they try to follow their wake," Ferdinand explained to the gathered staff officers, then, he looked towards Harper and said: "Tell Constantine to wait and rehearse his speech to the Council, as soon as the first ships begin striking the Sesoln I will address the Senate, and then… _war_."

* * *

 _AES North Sea, Citadel._

"He is with their diplomat now," Constantine said to the image of his father on the screen before him. "Last minute arrangements, but they won't try anything here, it is neutral ground…about the krogan..."

"What of him?" His father asked.

"What are you going to do with him? There are only 5 million of them now, and spread all over the galaxy…they can't really fight."

Ferdinand nodded, and chose to elaborate on the decision. "Harper wants to utilize his connections in this Terminus space; a man who knows the loops and hoops."

"Terminus Systems," Constantine corrected.

"The same. He wants the expertise of the man to set Cerberus on the right track." Ferdinand explained. "It will be good to open another front, albeit a silent one."

Constantine pondered whether to speak his mind or not. "…what do you hope to accomplish with this?"

"You disapprove," the elder man smiled.

"I actually don't understand," his son replied, expressing confusion on his face. "Unless you plan on taking over Ome-"

Constantine chuckled in realization, shaking his head. "Who would have thought…?"

"It is very long term," the Emperor said, spreading his hands as he talked. "It won't come into fruition until maybe the end of your own reign, or even further."

"I considered the words of the ministers," he went further. "Despite your own successes, I doubt they will reflect on element zero prices; and who knows, maybe we will be producing our own skycars and other Eezo based technologies in five or ten years…"

"Surveying the Empire for deposits might be useful too…" Constantine fell into silence, mulling over his next words. "Andromeda is pregnant."

"Congratulations!" Ferdinand said with a warm smile, his own eyes lighting up at the news.

"Thanks," Constantine said, slightly unsure of what to say.

"Marcel has settled very nicely on the monastic school," the elder Valeri said after a moment of silence. "When you get back here I'll tell you why we have sent him there."

"Does it have anything to do with the gene?" Constantine had turned serious.

"When you get back," Ferdinand said with an equally stern face. "It changes _everything_ , son."

Constantine did not know what to think, even after the video call with his father had ended.

He sat in silence in one of the lounges present on the _North Sea_ and after many minutes, he returned to rehearsing the speech he would make to the Council.

It seemed that despite their best efforts to avoid it, conflict was now in the agenda.

* * *

 _AES Intruder._

Shepard and his companions sat around in the ship's cargo hold, with pieces of equipment and tools spread over a metallic table before them.

There was a collection of electric and mechanical apparatus ranging from the cooling devices to the lenses of their weapons, engineer interfaces spread out as the Engineers tampered with their software.

Shepard had his M80 disassembled before him, as he checked the internal components and cleaned the lenses with great care.

Alenko made adjustments to his M212 focal distances with the help of a digital module, while Xavier typed continuously on his Engineer interface.

Synthwave music played at an ambience volume on the background, and on the back of the cargo hold the three Hammerhead gunships were serviced by both their pilots and their ground crew.

Sgt. Falkner's original squad, intermingled with Krüger's, was busy playing a game of basketball on the two hoops at the two lateral walls of the spacious hangar.

The space was illuminated in bright white light, with crates of multiple supplies stored neatly along the walls or piled up.

"Do you think we'll build more of this ship?" Shepard broke their silence.

"For sure," Xavier replied, not looking up from his device. "It is a prototype now, but the Navy is going to make a proper class out of it."

"I'd exchange the gamma laser for a railgun though…" Speros gave his input, as he did maintenance on his own M45.

"Kinetics lack the range and accuracy here," Xavier contested. "And besides, Fencer frigates already have the railguns and missiles; this one here is for infiltration."

"But maybe a spinal mount wouldn't hurt…" This time Shepard chimed in.

"Yeah it would not, but the ship would just cost more to build." The sniper replied. "It is one hell of an asset, this internal emissions sink; you get and you get out with zero trouble, added with the stealth plating and framing if the ship."

"So…where are you from, Speros?" Xavier asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Eta Messier, I joined from the Army," he replied. "And you?"

"Me and Shepard joined from the Army, Alonso is a star boy himself; LT was a civvie."

Alonso shook his head at the nickname for Imperial Navy personnel.

"For real?" The newcomer was genuinely surprised.

"Yep," Shepard nodded, finishing reassembling the LMG with several 'clicks' as the components came together. "He's got an open door policy, you should go and ask him to tell you the story; it is fascinating."

"I just want this to end already; I don't think I'll do another active service tour after this…" Alenko said, sighing deeply as he focused on the weapon before him. "I'll be thirty-three soon."

"It's not going to end for some time." Speros replied, turning his attention back to his own interface. "We'll do great things yet."

"As soon as the showdown starts, we'll strike at their _guts_." Shepard said, now cleaning his M25.

* * *

 _Sur'Kesh, Annos Basin._

"It seems everything is going as you planned, Dalatrass." General Desolas Arterius said, eyeing the salarian beside him.

The spaceport was one of the many above the salarian homeworld, and like all of them, it was extremely busy.

He stood together with the woman in a private observation tower, being able to spy the entire facility in a round topped construct, sealed to the void by thick glass.

All dreadnoughts had already docked, but their escorts still buzzed in organized chaos.

"You need not practice politics with me, Arterius," Dalatrass Erlana answered the general. "I understand your xenophobic sentiments; I don't need you to do anything else but to obey your orders and follow the battle plans."

If she was a salarian of any other standing, she would be answered with a snarl and acid insults.

But Desolas only sighed, and settled into watching the ships as he was previously doing; tolerating the undeserved arrogance of the being beside him only because he profited from doing so.

' _I better become a Primarch after all of this.'_ He thought, with his mind set on the future, both the near and distant one.

He could already imagine his promotion.

It would be just another painful and talon-grinding assignment with the lizards, and then... _glory_.

* * *

 **A/N:** Leave a review, and thanks for reading!


	19. Steel Rain

**A/N:** Double chapter! I am sure none expected this.

This was edited by **Xabiar.**

* * *

 _Council Chambers, Citadel_.

The station was abuzz, in complete upheaval; even aircar traffic was affected by the current Council session being held.

Aliens of all types were glued to screens through the station, or crowded the very same mezzanines in the Council Chambers, all watching in confusion and peaked interest as the Vaerdall diplomat presented his case to the three Councilors.

Constantine had just left the main elevator escorted by four Royal Guards, dressed plainly in a black suit; he wore a golden eagle pin on his jacket, and had a calculated irate expression on his face.

C-Sec constables, who held a small crowd of journalists and dignitaries of lesser importance by the main fountain from advancing, quickly opened passage as was instructed to be done, in the exceptional case of the human monarch himself demanding access to the Council or wishing to observe.

A measure that caused slight surprise, but that was generally understood as an minor exception given who the person in question was; it now bore fruit.

Constantine had decided to make this as public and dramatic as possible, and the journalists already cried 'Prince!', 'Your Majesty, a word!' and even his first name by the more bold ones.

Climbing the stairs, he maneuvered past the first garden, and other dignitaries who only noticed his presence after he walked past them; he could already hear the salarian's voice:

"…As such, the Sesoln in collusion with their Solus allies, have fomented distrust and hostility among our nations!" The usually calm and collected demeanor of salarians in diplomatic talks was all but gone, given the seriousness of the accusation. "Surprise strikes on several assets, the more recent of which is the destruction of two refineries belonging to the Vaerdall, the brutal attack on Kirunwe, clandestine communiqués and alliances; the list of their crimes goes on and on!"

The alien was flanked by two salarian soldiers, with their faces covered by their distinctly shaped bulbous helmets.

Minutes earlier, he had presented a series of documents, pictures, audio recordings, and testimonies; all given the digital clearance of authenticity by the Turian Hierarchy Internal Affairs Division.

"The truth of the evidence we have presented the Hierarchy officials before presenting it to you, esteemed Councilors, is that the Sesoln have nearly upset the centuries long peace we have enjoyed by parochial concerns and petty revenges, they have caused the death of thousands of beings, and planned to cause the death of _millions_." The man paced on his podium, hands joined behind his back. "They risked setting the galaxy on fire by placing the turian and salarian races at odds, in a reckless grab for political power."

"And why do you make this known only _now_?" Irissa interrupted him, face and voice devoid of emotion, despite her inner rage at the events. "Why have the Republics not been warned of this?"

"We are the main interested party, it is only natural that we were contacted first, Councilor; and in any case, the evidence is now in display to the galaxy." Herilus answered for the diplomat, with the myriad of hover cameras focusing on him. "But onto the matter at hand; this is treason of the highest order, to the Council, to the principles of cooperation between the peoples, this is _unthinkable_."

"I demand action! And by the end of this day the galaxy will demand justice!" The salarian below them exclaimed. "Immediate action; sanctions, penalty actions, the fact is that we will not remain idle, and neither must the Council."

"And indeed we will." The salarian Councilor finally spoke, crossing his arms. "I have been appointed Councilor by Dalatrass Erlana to serve as the voice of the salarian species, wherever they may find themselves."

"And I can say with certainty that this is not in our best interests. As Councilor Herilus pointed out, this is treason." He shook his head. "I propose the embargo of all commerce against the Sesoln and Solus principalities and all their subject clans, and I demand closure of all ports within Citadel Space to ships hailing from those states."

"The Vaerdall clan demands the Council to support our military actions against the Sesoln and Solus clans," the diplomat said, and the several cameras turned to him, recording and taking flashes in the darkened room, and now the whispers of the watching crowd amounted to background noise.

Slugs were flying already across the void, in distant worlds and systems; in fact, they were already at war as soon as he had left his apartment to his scheduled appointment with the Council.

"You don't make demands to this Council, diplomat," Irissa retorted, but before she could continue, a fifth voice sounded on the chambers.

"No, he does not," Constantine said, as he finished climbing the last flight of stairs. "But he can take you all for inept fools."

The cameras and gathered beings all turned their sights on him and they saw a being with a stern face, clean cut clothing, and an aura of authority around him.

"What is this? You have no right-" the salarian said turning to face the voice, not realizing to whom he was speaking, but then he gaped at surprise, as finally saw _who_ was the human walking towards him.

"Majesty, what is the purpose of this display? You have no scheduled session." Herilus questioned as the human male took a place beside a dumbstruck salarian.

"I understand the protocols, I understand and respect the _sanctity_ of this chamber, but my purpose is simple, Councilor," Constantine replied, eyeing Herilus. "It is simply to pose a question."

"When this individual, or another much similar to him, from whatever species, but with similar intentions, comes before you with the same 'evidence'," he elaborated, fingers describing two quotes in midair. "But this time incriminating the Empire, what will you do?"

"This is ridiculous." The diplomat beside him contested.

"Oh is it?" Constantine turned to look at the alien. "Tell me, _cui bono_? Who profits from a war between the Vaerdall, and by consequence the Council, and the Sesoln?"

' _All of us; but play along with me lizard_ ,' Constantine thought in internal amusement, not betraying his true thoughts.

A pause, and he continued. "I'll tell you who; industrialists, technocrats, bankers, and your own clique of nobles." Constantine declared. "The industrial base and infrastructure of a nation is wrecked, and then must be rebuilt, military hardware is destroyed or spent, and must be replaced and re-stocked, and old feuds must be settled, with territory and assets shifting hands after the dust settles."

At the silence, he finished. "This is nothing but the culmination of their entire economic and political interests manifest in a desire for _conflict,_ " the man denounced. "Today the Sesoln, tomorrow the Hegemony, the Illuminated Primacy, the Courts of Dekuuna…"

"And despite your claim of divide between the Union and the Hierarchy, you appear to be quite close diplomatically, after all you presented these files and recordings to them God knows how many time before this session." The man went on, and the crowd watched with intent as history was made, no one dared to blink. "Evidence can be manufactured, and the turian technicians may even be ignorant of any plot. But this is nothing but a squabble between two families, which in fact threatens the lives of millions, and intends to drag all of you into this."

"In your own ranks you have a being appointed directly by Dalatrass Erlana, who serves nothing but her own concerns, so it would be wise to reconsider his words here." Constantine pointed at the alien on Irissa's left. "And beside me you have her official spokesperson, which by definition voices her wishes."

"If you have not forgotten your own history, please tell me what usually happens in total warfare between two Salarian clans?" The prince asked, wanting to hear from their own mouths the answer.

"The defeated party is either extinguished, or forced into submission by birth-imprint and demotion of status, both involving thousands of deaths, usually millions." Irissa answered with a somber tone, which turned into steel as she eyed the salarian beside Constantine. "The Republics will not support genocide, diplomat, if that is your plan."

"If the Council does not support our cause, we will take matters into our own hands." The politician replied. "And we expect the Hierarchy to support us, it is the honorable decision."

"I voice my petition again, and I motion for a security resolution by the Council against the Sesoln clan." The salarian Councilor spoke again, this time lighting up the haptic panel in front of him, displaying the definitive move. "The Salarian Union votes in affirmative."

"The Asari Republics vote _no,_ " Irissa answered immediately, earning the measured and respectful applause from a large share of the asari spectators and dignitaries on the elevated corridors and booths, with assorted numbers from other species joining in. "This is inexcusable; the Republics demand time to verify the evidence presented by the ambassador, and the right of defense by the part of Dalatrass Nizen, and even then, this is an internal affair of the Union, to be partisan _now_ , in such haste manner is detrimental to the trust our nations have built with one another."

All eyes and lenses now turned to Herilus, and he seemed to stand straighter.

"The Turian Hierarchy, in our role as the main peacekeeping force in the galaxy, and with determination to uphold the values of multispecies cooperation, votes _yes."_ He said, eyeing Irissa, basking in satisfaction at seeing her wishes, and those of the asari, overruled.

"Council action approved by two votes against one," the salarian Councilor said in definitive tone; assuming a function that usually fell to the asari member.

As they placed their hands on the haptic controls, the panel behind them displayed the result and the decision, marking the time of the resolution.

"If this is how the Council operates, with recklessness and tyranny, we will have no part or dealings with it." Constantine spoke, seizing the brief moment of silence.

"Save for the Republics, through Councilor Irissa, none of you showed wisdom or even honesty today," he declared, eyeing the turian and the two salarians. "Mark my words, you may begin a war at our doorstep, but we will finish it!"

And before questionings of the meaning behind his words and declarations of appalment at his actions could begin, he turned and left, being followed by his guards and the gazes of both bystanders, the cameras, and the politicians.

And later that day, as the AES _North Sea_ and the 345th Fleet made relay jumps leaving the Widow Nebula, the myriad of asari republics who made up the body of their namesake had acknowledged and complied with what was to be known as Resolution 979, albeit with wave after wave of formal and sharp protest by the diplomatic venues.

* * *

 _Sagittarius Arm, Interstellar Space._

The _Intruder_ dashed lightyears in unmatched speed across the Dirac Sea, with Keller fields breaching oceans of hypermatter as the metallic hydrogen engines spat superheated exhaust, boosted by anti-protons fed into the reaction chamber.

They had eluded the Vaerdall Space Force for three hours now, as the ship penetrated their space in FTL; a fact that the salarian only knew due to their newly developed gravity sensors.

Their singularity collapsed and reversed in controlled manner, and they were back into realspace again, flashing faint light and cosmic radiation, and powering down their thrusters, moving through inertial across cold space, distant from any star.

General quarters had been sounded long ago, and now all non-combat personnel was confined to their quarters, strapped in acceleration belts and wearing sealed spacesuits.

" _Contact report!_ " Hill bellowed into the comm channel, wearing his own zero-g combat suit, as soon as the tachyon panels reported online on his terminal; their faster-than-light waves sweeping colossal distances.

An officer in the crew pits replied quickly. " _All intercepting vehicles have updated their trajectory; arrival expected in ten minutes, four contacts so far, all the others have broken pursuit; but those four are_ fast _._ "

" _They must have a standoff observer, and relayed our new position through QEC; or they have inbuilt gravitic sensors_." Another noted.

Hill pondered for a few moments, in light of this new fact, before ordering as he brought up a holographic representation of the approaching contacts and his own ship in front of him:

" _Vent all cooling liquid through the droplet system; I want us one hundred percent. Then alter our current trajectory to meet the two polar contacts first, simple burn._ "

" _Aye, aye, sir!_ " came the collective reply.

The _Intruder_ spun on its vertical axis, pointing the bow to the general galactic north and began its burn, changing its trajectory to meet the aforementioned ships, and leaving a trail of sparkling droplets behind.

Four blue-shifted stars dashed across the cosmos as they de-accelerated, and the salarian interceptor corvettes emerged out of FTL.

" _Contacts! Four Izala-class corvettes identified!_ " One officer exclaimed, as the vessels were painted by the radar and detected by the IRST. " _Fifty five thousand klicks and closing on the contacts number one and two, a hundred thousand klicks on three and four!_ "

" _Engage military power_ ," Hill ordered, referencing to injecting anti-protons to gain extra power, with his eyes fixed on the information being displayed on the HUD of his combat suit and on the display ahead of him. " _Torpedoes 1 to 3 and 4 to 6, fire on contacts one and two, three second interval!_ "

And so they did, with the torpedoes leaving their tubes and maneuvered in their orientation, as the accelerating ship left them behind; but once they turned on their engines they quickly overtook their parent vessel and sped off past the stealth frigate as bright stars dashing to meet their targets.

The interval between the launches enabled the torpedoes to be spaced around by roughly one second of arrival time.

" _Torpedo impact in forty seconds, all munitions tracking!_ "

" _Ladar beams, they are tracking us too_." An emissions officer reported.

" _Maneuvering to engage, one and two in meeting trajectory roughly the same speed, three and four in pursuit, merge in…eighty four seconds, we are only marginally faster!_ " The helmsman replied, hands flying across the controls.

" _Helmsman, evasion maneuvers!_ " Hill ordered, and correctly, because the two salarian corvettes had taken an initial salvo from their small spinal cannons, before their PDs deployed and they began to maneuver erratically.

The ship moved back and forth, and the 1 kilogram rounds went wide by dozens of kilometers.

" _UV PDs engaged, they finally detected them, torpedoes are in terminal!_ "

Invisible ultraviolet beams shot from the two GARDIAN arrays in each frigate, hitting the first two torpedoes that sped across them, once their systems finally acquired their targets in the initial confusion of emerging out of FTL and being shot into combat.

The last seconds of their approach seemed like hours for the technicians in both sides.

The beams of energy melted the deflective plating of the first two missiles, and the first exploded in a fiery flash of light and a hail of fragments in hypervelocity expanding in a cone through its flight path, the second had the guidance system damaged beyond any recognition and lost sight of the their target.

The barriers of the first corvette flashed blue as they deflected the odd debris from the destroyed torpedo, but it was to nothing, as the GARDIAN arrays, more specifically their systems, did not have enough time to track and attack a second target.

The 60m long ship was annihilated with a single hit, and its companion bore the same fate less than a second later, bright flashes of light, with expanding metal and slag; the third wave of missiles flew past the debris cloud hitting nothing, and set to autodestruct automatically.

" _Splash one and two!_ " One officer cried out, with excitement lacing his voice.

" _Kill acceleration, torpedoes 6 and 7, 8 and 9, release but do not ignite them, manual targeting,_ " Hill ordered. " _Deploy IADS; let's see what they've got_."

The ship's engines stopped abruptly, and another four torpedoes left the ship, accompanying the inertial cruise without powering up, and six 20mm rotary railcannon emerged out of the black hull, with the ship reversing orientation to face the pursuers head on.

The two remaining corvettes kept pursuing, now harassing the Imperials with sporadic railgun fire.

The Intruder maneuvered in their inertial cruise, utilizing the powerful engines to hop from position to position erratically in lateral and diagonal motion, as the helmsman utilized the range to his advantage.

But soon the corvettes would be too close to miss, and the shots would become too well-placed.

" _Merge in five minutes_ ," an officer said through their comm.

Hill focused on the 3D display before him, with figures and trajectories indicating what happened outside. " _At twenty thousand begin railcannon fire on them, ignite torpedoes at twenty, and keep them busy_."

The seconds rolled by as the 1kg slugs flew past the frigate at speeds reaching a thousand kilometers per second, and getting increasingly accurate as the two corvettes closed the distance between them.

A lucky shot was deflected by the shields on the human frigate, being stopped by an invisible wall of energy.

" _Fire!_ " Hill said at once, and at his command hell broke loose.

The six railcannons began to fire thousands of 0.1kg 20mm slugs at the incoming ships, who answered in kind with their own kinetic penetrators and multiple disruptor missiles.

Half second bursts of hundreds of rounds at 1500km/s began to be deflected off by the kinetic barriers of the corvettes; their accuracy wasn't optimal, but due to the natural deviation the guns projectiles suffered as they left the muzzle and due to the maneuvering of their enemies, but the sheer volume of fire made up for it.

" _Multiple vampires incoming, redirecting PD fire!_ "

The missiles shot as fast as they could from the salarian ships, being considerably smaller than the torpedoes fired by the human frigate, and carrying different warheads.

In a matter of seconds they closed, their numbers being cut down by the rotary railguns and the Longbow missiles the IADS batteries had shot to intercept; but then they slowed considerably, as their element zero cores began to alter their mass to bypass any kinetic barrier.

But the _Intruder_ had none, and their point defense made short work of the disruptor missiles, being insufficient in quantity and speed to overwhelm their defenses, with systems choosing the wrong terminal tactic.

" _Forty seconds to merge_."

" _Ignite torpedoes! PD batteries two and four keep pressure on ships!_ " Hill shouted through their comm.

At his command the two batteries shifted from firing at the missiles to the ships.

The two Sunburn torpedoes that were ejected earlier reoriented themselves and bust in a flash of light, as their engines ignited.

" _Seven seconds to impact_!" A weapons officer called out.

These seconds seemed like hours, and even as the UV lasers on the corvettes focused on the two missiles, their ships' own acceleration added to the missiles' own thrust left few precious seconds to intercept.

The two remaining ships went down in history as fiery explosions; as the orillium warheads overwhelmed their barriers and went on to destroy their hulls.

" _Splash two!_ " The same gunnery officer called out. " _All enemy vessels destroyed!_ "

Cheers of accomplishment spread through the CIC as the men below on the crew pits shook hands or joked among themselves, with the adrenaline of combat flowing through their veins.

Captain Hill acknowledged the few officers that looked up with approving nods, face invisible behind his helmet.

" _Well done everyone_ ," the MID officer declared. " _Heat status?_ "

The cheers died down on the comm channel as the commanding officer requested more information. " _Huh...15.7% above standard sir, we're sufficiently far from any star, so we've got prolonged endurance_."

" _Anti-proton reserves?_ " Hill demanded again.

" _We're down to 32%, sir_." Another officer replied to his left. " _We did a three hour continuous burn…that was one hell of an engine test_."

" _Excellent_ ," Hill nodded in satisfaction. " _Helmsman, we're getting out of here, conserve anti-protons, standard cruise burn._ "

" _Where to, Captain?_ " The helmsman replied, looking back from his own seat to Hill.

"Kel'Shan, we'll replenish there from now on." Hill said, lifting his helmet with an audible hiss and running a gloved hand through his hair.

Hill considered for a moment, finally free of the helmet, and recalled their fight, and the multiple jumps through FTL they made to lure the salarian ships in pursuit before the shootout, even dropping back to realspace and racing a turian frigate to entice their opponents.

He unstrapped himself from the acceleration belts, and moved forward to the helmsman seat.

'A _time to command, and a time to inspire_.' he thought.

His hand fell on the man's shoulder suddenly, and the man looked up startled, face and expression hidden by the helmet.

"You did well, Lt. Pressly," he said in a low voice, out of their comm channel, but the man's helmet picked up the sound. "We're still alive because you showed those lizards what flying is all about."

Pressly pressed a button by the neck of his suit, and the visor turned totally transparent; the boy was sweating, red hair glued to his forehead, but he had a shit-eating grin, shining ear to ear.

All he managed was a thumb up with his gloved hand, since words escaped him at the adrenaline of combat.

Hill opened a rare smile himself, and shook his head chuckling, giving the young man below him another light tap on his shoulder, before turning and leaving. "Carry on, Pressly,"

The battle was over and won, but the war had just started.

* * *

 _Imperial Senate, Terra._

The men gathered in hushed whispers for the pronouncement about to be made.

Some had just left their own homes or government issued apartments in the city, as it was night over that hemisphere.

Families gathered around their flatscreens to observe the pronouncement, or even on the far reaches of the Empire people watched their screens and displays.

After a few moments, the whispering ceased, and the Senators stood up and applauded the entrance of the awaited figure.

Emperor Ferdinand was serious as always, holding the Scepter in his right hand as he walked from the marbled archway behind the main wall and settled in his podium below the eagle and the fasces.

The applause continued for a minute, until he made a gesture with his hand, and it progressively died down as the politicians in front of him settled back on their seats.

"Esteemed Senators, compatriots, citizens," he began after a few seconds of absolute silence, sweeping his gaze across the gathered representatives. "As we have witnessed in the past hours, galactic polities have sprung events that have led to the situation we find ourselves this moment."

"Any of you can connect to a channel in your TV, phone, the newly imported omnitools, or through the Internet on a computer, and see the reports of attacks and naval strikes, of war and conflict." He eyed the cameras one by one. "You will hear the news that after the approval of Resolution 979, the Salarian Union has entered a state of civil war."

"This conflict is, beyond what Prince Constantine has said before the Council, the sign and true evidence of a broken promise." He declared, face and tone turning into ice. "A promise of peace made by this Council mere _months_ ago; that we would enjoy a serene introduction to the galactic community."

A pause. "And it can be noted that this sentiment was upheld in the Republics, albeit being bound to their treaties and own political concerns." he made sure to add.

"But now, not five thousand light years from our nearest colony, you have flotillas of ships shooting space stations out of the sky!" His rhetoric picked up intensity. "And merely sentiments will not save a scapegoat from the slaughter."

He allowed a moment of silence to let his words sink in. "A message that truth is a secondary concern, that they, the Union and the Hierarchy, impose their will and that it is best for you not to stand in their way!" As his tone rose in intensity, Senators agreed in mumbles or nods of their heads. "This is a convenient excuse to also send a warning: oppose us and our interests and be destroyed; your economies will be starved, your ships shot down, your cities bombed."

"We will not stand for this." He stated. "We are _not_ upstarts that fear the sight of a snarling hound."

The men before him rose and applauded again with some being outspoken about their opinions, through diffuse cries of ' _Liars_!' and ' _Backstabbers_!', and only stopping at his motion.

"Since the approval of the resolution, we have tried to contact the Vaerdall diplomatic services several times through the efforts of Councilor Irissa and the spontaneous offers of mediation by several diplomats, in order to arrange a meeting between Sesoln and Solus representatives and themselves, and we have been denied audience every time; peace is clearly not on their agenda." Ferdinand continued with a slightly milder tone.

"Senators, now these polities _force_ our hand, despite our steady non-interventionism." Ferdinand said with a sober and firm tone to his voice. "I am now officially authorizing military action to guarantee the safety of the civilians currently residing on Sesoln and Solus controlled planets, regardless of their political affiliation and species, until proper peace talks can be established, until we have peace, mankind will not be bullied into signing any accord, or making compromises to the Council."

"Our message to them will be clear and concise:" Ferdinand declared, raising his voice with finality, and the Senators instinctively rose to their feet. "We will _not_ be intimidated!"

Their applause was thunderous and long, coupled with salutes and cries of ' _Hail Victory!_ ', and Ferdinand answered in kind saluting the men before him and the ones who watched him hundreds and even thousands of light years away.

And as Ferdinand left the massive Senate building into the European night, stepping down the perfect row of rocky white steps leading to the square proper, a crowd of many thousands of passersby had gathered, being held by a single line of policemen.

And they replicated the commotion inside the Senate chamber, crying out in exaltation and patriotism, angered by the aliens that had stabbed mankind in the back.

Men in suits, casual clothing, men dressed in white aprons with their sleeves rolled back coming from the restaurants and hotels around the city, men in gray and green, probably off-duty soldiers and officers.

Children propped up in their fathers' shoulders waving to the central figure that left the illuminated building of white marble ahead of them.

Ferdinand saluted back as he approached the crowd, reaching his car.

The car was soon moving sluggishly through the crowd as they reluctantly made way, with Ferdinand all but standing inside, with half his body exposed through the solar roof.

His mission had been accomplished.

He settled back into his seat once they had left the city, and joined a convoy heading back to the Palace.

Harper poured two small cups with clear vodka. "We prolong the war just for a little, while the turians and Vaerdall are satisfied in wrecking their off-world infrastructure, and if they know what is best, they'll avoid direct confrontation with our forces."

"And while we defend a share of their planets, the Sesoln are free to carry out their own strikes with more liberty," Ferdinand completed. "And then, after a month or so, peace talks are established, and everything goes back to how it was; except nothing will be as it was."

Both men drank the liquid in one gulp.

"Constantine is going to be a radical, you know that right?" Harper asked, pouring another shot.

"Yeah, he _hates_ being crossed," the Emperor agreed. "But in times such as these…we _need_ a radical."

"Someone to be aggressive, to keep pressing at every advantage," He mused, looking outside the window for a moment. "My reign was one of peace, as have been many before me; but he is going to be thrown into the fray."

"I won't fail him." Harper declared. "And neither will he fail you."

"And we won't fail mankind." Ferdinand concurred, and they drank again.

* * *

 _Akart, relay link between Solus and Vaerdall territories._

Ships from the 190th fleet jumped out of hyperspace in several singularities, as the door to the alternate dimension collapsed behind and within them.

Cruisers and frigates spilled out like a swarm in two different points of the system, making minor corrections to their formations as their fusion engines and maneuver ports made small burns.

Unlike their Citadel counterparts, anti-matter manufacture was still an expensive process on the Empire, so they did not have the bonus of anti-proton injection on the great bulk of their navy.

And the metallic-hydrogen engines on the _Intruder_ were experimental, being of larger size than utilized in small craft and missiles, and utilized fuel that couldn't simply be skimmed of gas giants.

As a result, Imperial warships were like snails compared to the ones of Citadel navies; pursuit of enemy spacecraft was impossible, and retreat could only be made through FTL.

Second Lieutenant Steven Hackett was all too aware of that, knowing the layout of every Imperial ship backwards, and he kept his tension at hand while focusing on the display in front of him.

Unlike frigates and smaller ships, Cruisers and above had two control centers for the running of the ship; the CIC, or bridge as was commonly referred to, and the Weapons Room, the secondary command center.

From the CIC the ship's CO sent out orders, either specific or general, and those were relayed either to the crew on his location, or the gunnery and sensorial officers on the Weapons Room.

Even if the CIC suffered critical battle damage, and the occupants were killed or incapacitated, the ship could still be directed from the Weapons Room, and vice-versa.

He was in his zero-g combat suit, in the natural grey of the Navy with his rank and name, but devoid of all ribbons, looking similar to a 22nd century space suit.

He commanded four out of the forty 120mm railguns on his 800m Crusader-class cruiser; the AES _Hercules_. His guns could fire 20kg projectiles, similar to the ones fired by main battle tanks, at 2000km/s; the slugs were made of an osmium-tungsten alloy.

Central in the room was the position of the Chief Weapons Officer, usually occupied by a Lieutenant Commander or even a full Commander, in a swiveling chair overlooking all the officers in their own stations.

He could hear his superior, LCDR Lassen, reporting through the comm channel. " _All systems nominal, sir, we're ready._ "

" _Good_ ," Captain Montenegro voice sounded on their net, and then on the general ship address channel. " _This is it boys, let's kick some ass_."

Hackett's HUD indicated the current Δv that the starship cruised, and he saw that they were accelerating now, both because the ship lurched and because the number began to increase.

Minutes came and passed by, and a myriad of new green rectangles appeared on his display, indicating targets and their identified profiles, being described by letters beside the rectangles such as ' _Frigate #4_ ' or ' _Civilian #25_ ' as he zoomed in, also appearing on a list of contacts on his terminal.

The list was updated as the minutes rolled in, with some contacts appearing in their true names, whether civilian or belonging to a military.

" _We're taking long-range fire_ , _and not bothering to evade,_ " his superior declared, as Hackett could see through the remote cameras of his gun pods flashes of light, as if flaming rocks, splashing and turning into millions of dust speckles against the invisible wall that was their Universal Defensive Shield, following the contour of their spaceship dozens of meters off the hull.

Some of those flashes appeared for less than the blink of an eye sometimes close sometimes really distant of their ship, and Hackett identified those as the enemy's own kinetic artillery.

His stomach felt heavy at being fired at and not being in control of it. Hackett looked back to his superior behind his seat for a moment, and saw his hands flying across his touchscreen keyboard.

" _Tubes 1 to 12, two second interval salvo at Cruiser 12, tubes 13 to 24, two second interval at VSF_ Prakash _!_ " LCDR Lassen used their internal channel, and after the acknowledgments of the officers responsible for those platforms, he knew the Sunburns were taking to the void, as he heard the sound of their cold launches reverberating through the bulkhead.

He turned back to his terminal and used his joystick to turn his remote camera, displaying an image of the void, and saw the blue X's that were the torpedoes gain distance from his spaceship.

He could also see blue diamonds shooting through the cosmos together with his ship, but they appeared just as that, hundreds of kilometers away from the _Hercules._

' _We must still be quite far away from them_.' Hackett thought, as he considered the nature of torpedo fire, but ultimately ignorant of the general battle situation.

A minute passed, and the rounds stopped to hit their shields.

" _Splash one!_ " One officer suddenly cried out on their net.

" _And two!_ " Another replied, shortly after.

" _That's it boys!_ " The CWO congratulated. " _Set remaining torpedoes to Pitbull_."

" _Aye, aye, sir!_ " Hackett heard the response in voices that he did not remember at the moment to which of his colleagues they belonged to.

Hackett remembered that the terminology in the Imperial Armed Forces meant that the munition was now set to look for targets on its own, be it an air-to-air missile fired by an F-88C, a Sunburn torpedo from a spaceship, or even an ATGM fired by a Hammerhead or MBT.

" _Wolfpack, attempting flanking trajectory, all port batteries fire at will_." The Chief Weapons Officer said on his ear through the channel.

Hackett was focused on his display and quickly identified the contacts highlighted by his superior, his camera following the indicated digital arrow until it pointed at the specified contacts, and outside the hull the barrels of his railguns did the same.

He saw six green squares in his HUD; some already had markers indicating that they were being tracked by other batteries. He chose one of them, being mindful as his fellow gunners to allocate an equal number of batteries to all contacts.

As he locked on of them, and his fire control system began acquiring a firing solution immediately, the contact turned red and had a red diamond superimposed on it, indicating a target lock.

Between the order being given, and Hackett allocating a target for his battery, it had elapsed only 4 seconds; in the fifth they all opened fire.

The hull began to shudder as half of all the ship's turreted railguns opened fire, every five seconds spitting another hypervelocity round to the void.

They were each capable of engaging four targets at a time if they so wished, but 'Weapons free!' hadn't been ordered yet.

Hackett now only watched as his rounds flew off as shooting stars in the cosmos, bringing fire and death at foes thousands of kilometers away.

As the frigates evaded, and returned fire with their disruptor missiles, Hackett could see that the IADS now opened fire akin to long streams of fire, and the Longbows were launched to intercept the enemy missiles, lifting off the hull and streaking off similar to how their own torpedoes did.

Two contacts suddenly disappeared, and Hackett zoomed in on them, seeing clouds of debris of slag.

He soon heard another round of cheers from whom he judged to be the technicians responsible for the batteries that had killed the ships.

He looked to the side and saw that Lt. Jószef was as glued to his screen as he was.

" _Do you know at whom are we firing at?_ " He said, opening a two-way channel with the man beside him, in order not to pollute their common net.

" _Who cares, mate?_ " The fellow gunner replied, in his usual uncaring way. " _Turian, salarian, all the same; stay cool, Steven, we'll get our kills soon."_

Like his words were a prophecy, a sound chimed inside Hackett's helmet, and his eyes shot back to his terminal, seeing that his contact had been engaged and destroyed, being followed by another frigate, with the surviving two doing evasion burns.

He couldn't help but join in his comrades as they cheered another kill credited to their ship.

" _They are retreating_ …" Lassen said over their channel, nearly whispering, looking to his own display.

" _All weapons cease fire!_ " The voice of their Captain sounded again on the general net, and all officers complied immediately. " _The enemy is retreating, the relay is ours!_ "

" _Hell yeah!_ " One voice called out on their internal net, and the man was soon joined by several others, with seat neighbors shaking hands and bumping fists.

Hackett joined in without even sparing a thought to the hundreds of lives they had just taken.

Later as he dined and their fleet assumed a guard position around the relay, he would learn that the cruiser _Hussar_ had lost two thrusters to a disruptor torpedo and the _Damocles_ had sustained heavy damage and was crippled, and that a frigate, the _Hydra_ , had somehow spent all ammunition during their engagement.

Hackett thought his fight had been intense, but to spend all your torpedoes, space-to-space missiles, and railcannon rounds, both 20mm and 120mm; _that_ was a baptism of fire.

* * *

 _Rannadril, 4055 LY spinward of Kel'Shan._

Teso shot through the sky as his aircraft breached the atmosphere, and he was momentarily blind system-wise as his fighter was engulfed in a sheath of plasma.

He flew an A-99 Firefly multirole fighter, the staple starfighter utilized by the Hierarchy, also license produced by the Republican Navy.

Two mass accelerator cannons, and a ventral weapons bay, with two fusion torches for engines; it was a fast and capable aircraft able to perform strike and air superiority missions.

However, it had no sort of stealth capability, neither in design or material, as the Hierarchy doctrine dictated numbers, and tactical discipline, won air combat.

The plasma sheath dissipated, and he regained control of his aircraft, establishing a hypersonic glide over the upper atmosphere of the planet.

" _Stay alert_ ," his squadron leader said as soon as their aircraft were reachable. " _The space battle was a victory, but we need to take out as much orbital cannons as soon as possible."_

Captain Amano finished: _"The enemy won't simply allow us, so follow the rules."_

 _"Yes sir!"_ the twelve pilots replied as usual.

In previous centuries, a victory of space could in many times also mean a victory at land, but thanks to technological and economic advancement that was no more.

As nation states could afford and build better and bigger orbital defense cannons, such sites could now fire heavy slugs at targets in orbit posing a danger to landing craft, or even knock incoming rounds from starships off their course; akin to deflecting a bullet by shooting another bullet at it, and thus defending against orbital bombardment.

A round that was intercept could be deviated off course enough to land at sea, or in an uninhabited area, or simply miss the planet altogether, and a ship that was carrying thousands and thousands of troops and billions of credits in equipment or supplies could be turned into slag.

The twelve aircraft flew in three separate flights of four, space by two hundred or so meters.

As their fleet orbited outside the practical range of the cannons, they had to lure them into emitting a radio signature; such consisted of sending the aircraft to flood the enemy atmosphere to lure their own defenders and see which aircraft flights met most resistance; then they could know where to focus satellite scans.

Suicidal to some.

The turians all went by the textbook and turned their radars, sweeping a wide area given their altitude.

" _Four contacts, 312km away, bearing 128_ ," one pilot in his flight called out.

" _Flight two and three, go and intercept, force their hand_." Cpt. Amano ordered in Teso's ear.

With an acknowledgement, the leaders of the two squadrons banked, being followed by their wingmen, and sped off in a different direction, engaging in the full power of their engines, reaching Mach 5.

" _Three minutes to intercept_ ,"

Teso looked down, and the sight was beautiful: mountains and hills at their bases, expanding green plains, with white clouds casting huge shadows, and lakes of bright blue.

His fighter and those of his wingmen carried four aptly named Type 50 'Talon' air-to-air missiles, a scramjet powered long range missile, with over 800km of practical kinematic range.

The Talon despite its size could reach Mach 10, in any altitude; it was one of the prides of the Armax Arsenal and sold only to the Hierarchy and client states.

The four contacts changed course, now in an intercept vector with the two flights; which soon were painted by the radars of the enemy aircraft.

" _They have a death wish; merge time changed to one minute, flight one open fire_." Amano called out on their radio, directing the air combat from his own aircraft.

To Teso's right he saw two black objects fall from the bellies of each aircraft on their sister flight, and take to the skies as their scramjet engines lit up, swooshing ahead.

He watched through the HUD on his instrumentation that the enemy was maneuvering wildly, probably deploying plasma flares and chaff, to defend against the missiles.

Everything changed in a second.

As they flew through the countryside, their flight was painted in groundside GARDIAN radar; and being high as they were, they were denied the defense of being below the horizon mean to the emplacement or vehicle, and neither could they lose LOS by hiding behind ground features.

Teso saw the aircraft to his right light up as laser hit its fuselage, burning away at the components, and he dove for the ground as fast as he could, losing as much altitude as possible.

" _Six is down, wing ruptured_ ," he heard through the radio. " _Eight went light a star, fuel tank melted_."

The other six surviving aircraft dove together with him, and as he noticed, three of the enemy aircraft had been shot down by the Talons, being at such close range and on a head on approach.

The fourth kept going forward, and had released all eight of its own missiles by the sound that now rang through his helmet and the indications on his panel.

" _Evade_!" Teso called out, instinctively.

The flight of six broke up, with all of them with at least one missile assigned to their own aircraft; there were only seconds left now to react.

Twists and turns together dives and climbs, and the Gs either pressed pilots against their chair or made their vision turn increasingly blue, as their blood rushed to their heads and the Vis released chaffs and flares automatically.

Teso had evaded the sole missile assigned to him, and the GARDIAN apparently had lost LOS with them.

The salarian fighter had shot down Five and Eleven now, and it now boomed across the sky to finish Teso off.

' _Fucking drones_ ,' Teso though, with his lungs weighting a ton, as he realigned his aircraft, banking through pristine sky, to meet the incoming UCAV.

He accelerated, and could already see the contact fast approaching on his HUD, he switched to guns, aligning the reticle on the figure of the enemy fighter in a split second, and pressed the trigger, turning the joystick at the same time to evade.

Both he and the drone exchanged hypervelocity rounds, which tore through their airframes as the two aircraft finally merged, flying past each other at high supersonic speeds.

The drone exploded in a fireball of debris, fire, and descending black smoke, and Teso now spun out of any control, as his left wing was tore with holes and he missed one engine, whose place was now occupied by a bright flame as his pressurized fuel was fed into nothing.

He soon blacked out, as the system constantly beeped and chimed on his helmet; once the VI detected his unconscious state, it ejected him automatically, and the aircraft continued on its path until crashing on the ground and being utterly destroyed.

Teso was shot down on his first combat mission, and he now dreamed of home, as his seat fell gently with the aid of his parachutes, while the war raged around him.

* * *

 **A/N:** That's it folks! The famed False War is on, and we see figures appearing, some in their past versions and others for the first time. Leave me a review!

By the way, I have a DeviantArt profile now, the ID is **derelicttyrant** ; there you will find maps and anything visual that I find of relevance to my stories, check it out!


	20. Lightning Strike

**A/N:** Hey! I don't have much to say here this time, so please enjoy.

This was edited by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Mars, Armed Forces Unified Command._

 _Campus Martius_ was the focal point of the Imperial Armed Forces, gathering within its public squares and buildings the highest echelons of command and organization of the Navy and Army, analogue to the Pentagon of the old United States government but if it were a series of buildings instead of a single one.

At the center of the military district stood the space elevator, a silver monolith shining as it pierced the sky, connecting the Shipyards above to the ground; around were sprawled in a radius of twenty kilometers the administrative buildings belonging to the two branches, including the barracks for the 25th Army Battlegroup.

A true martial city with over a million inhabitants, accounting for the contingent of the Battlegroup itself, it was linked with the rest of the planet by the maglev high-speed trains and highways.

Bunkers were built well below the complex to serve as C3 centers for a myriad of military operations, and were assigned as necessary to commanders and their staff officers.

Inside one of these, Admiral Bouchard paced from terminal to terminal, overlooking the displays of the technicians and officers who processed the flow of information.

He was the current commander-in-chief of what was referred to in Imperial military circles as the Salarian Naval Theater; contrary to Army tradition, his presence near the so called 'front' was completely unnecessary and superfluous.

General Ellison however was in the interstellar emptiness between the Orion and Sagittarius arms, aboard the only class of starships the Army could operate: Siberia-class command frigates.

Nothing more than a Fencer-class stripped of all weaponry save for IADS pods, and stacked with communication suites and extra space for his general staff, from there he could direct and oversee any land combat of his assigned formations from light years away.

' _He must be quite bored_.' Bouchard smiled.

"Comrade Admiral," his attention snapped back to reality.

He wore virtual reality contact lenses, not out of any need to correct his eyesight, as that was corrected in the human genome before he was even born, but to better organize the information that reached their bunker across the void.

The lenses indicated which one of the officers had spoken, and he turned to face the man, two rows of terminals below him.

"The 190th reports that the enemy has disengaged and scattered in FTL, they are tracking them through tachyon sweeps, no immediate relief forces detected. They have minimal losses and have established a defensive formation on the relay." The man reported, looking away from his screen as he reported to the admiral.

"Good." Bouchard acknowledged.

He turned his eyes to the holographic projector at the center of the room, the focal point of the enclosed space, with the terminals arranged in circles around it.

It projected many meters above the ground a 3D representation of their theater of operations, with important systems as highlighted diminutive dots.

It was D+1 of _Operation Steel Rain_ , and after the initial twenty four hours they had already had five engagements, all with salarian forces.

A relief, as he was given orders not to escalate with Hierarchy units wherever he could avoid. Nonetheless, the salarians already did planetary assaults, with the turians in their wake, on a minor scale.

If anything could be taken from those initial hours, it was that the old adage proved true once more: ' _No plan survives contact with the enemy_.'

The inclusion of the supporting turian troops and fleets upset the correlation of forces and means finely studied in the planning phases of the operation; however, the inclusion of his _own_ forces was a wrench thrown into the plans of their adversaries as well, so he figured that they were even in disadvantages.

Five focal systems in control, holding both secondary and primary relays, were already captured.

While secondary relays had limited range compared to primary pairs, they could shoot ships in any direction four hundred lightyears away from their position, and were useful in their own merit.

Primary relays on the other hand displayed no such concerns, being able to theoretically propel a ship across the entire galaxy to its pair, over tens of thousands of lightyears in an instant.

Their control could quite literally choke space traffic in large regions of space.

He studied the map, and looked once again to the delineated region of space belonging to the Solus.

Spinward, and far from Sur'Kesh, it would probably be the least of his concerns, unless the turians shifted their focus away from the Sesoln; of course, STG sabotage strikes had already happened here and there, with their shipping also being intercepted outside of their own territory, but that area was guaranteed to be left mostly alone if all went well.

' _If only Object 889 was under my control_.' He thought, remembering the quick security briefing he received twenty four hours before the beginning of combat.

He had heard of rumors of ecstatic DARPA scientists, shortly after first contact with the Republics, and of a construction dock on the Shipyards that was crawling with intelligence officers and ISF operatives.

His colleagues had speculated endlessly about those recent developments, but no information was distributed among the Admiralty; he now knew what all the secrecy was about.

His hands stretched out into thin air, and he began to manipulate the virtual interface displayed directly to his eyes.

' _350_ _th_ _Heavy Fleet.._. _commanded by Adm. Erwin Yardley_ ' He mused focusing on a specific spot in space; the fleet's current path was displayed in the projection, with a triangle displaying the estimated position of the formation and their ETA. ' _Let's see what the boy can do…_ '

* * *

 _Tamann, 3500 lightyears rimward of Sur'Kesh._

The ships of the 350th Heavy Fleet breached space-time in singularities flashing in outbound light and radiation, emerging in a never-before visited system.

Their reception was warm, to say the least.

" _Long-range kinetic fire sir, multiple contacts in horizontal interception trajectory, what are your orders?_ " One of the lieutenants in the crew pits reported through their internal voice channel as soon as his sensors were operational, with the rest of the fleet adrift through the void.

The CIC was dark, with all unnecessary lights turned off to save ever the tidiest bits of power to other systems and components; the only illumination came from the consoles each and every man was focused on.

" _All ships align to merge and adjust thrust to maintain formation with capitals, identify sources of fire, and deploy gun pods; comm back to command our position._ " Erwin replied, clad in the zero-g suit much like his subordinates.

" _Aye, aye!_ "

The four Jupiter-class battleships began to yaw along with their escorts, cruisers and frigates, maintaining formation in a stellar ballet, and soon they ignited their fusion thrusters in unison, being propelled forward.

" _Sir, we are facing 18 cruisers and 12 frigates, salarian unified design. Another much larger constellation numbering on the low hundreds has merged above the planet_ at varying altitudes," the same sensorial officer reported on his left. " _They are now retreating to the planet's immediate orbit in full military power, 120K and increasing; they are gaining on us_ , _400K to the planet, we'll arrive in two hours and forty minutes_."

" _That is to be expected…a diversionary force_." Erwin mused, eyeing his own console. " _These so called gravitic sensors are not that accurate it seems, much like hyperspace detection, they probably cannot identify individual contacts when we move in FTL as a tight formation, so now they run as they see the four capitals_."

" _Evade the shots they have gotten out and continue pursuit, begin fleet-wide harassment with gamma lasers_." Erwin ordered.

His orders were relayed across the fleet, and soon the telescope like pods of the gamma lasers on the cruisers and battleships turned their sights on the retreating ships.

Invisible beams of ionizing radiation shot through the void at light speed, flashing portions of the electromagnetic shields of the salarian ships in bright white as they absorbed the directed energy.

From the high-powered versions, dishing out 100t of TNT equivalent energy, mounted on the battleships, to the 50t versions on the cruisers, they continued in timed continuous waves lasting two seconds, cooling off for another eight as they built up heat, then firing again, gradually weathering down the shields of the enemy ships.

" _These seem to be refitted to the newest standards, sir_." A weaponry officer said to his right. " _Or else the gamma lasers would have bypassed any kinetic barrier_."

" _Interesting_ ," Erwin commented. " _This planet must be an important target for them; otherwise un-upgraded ships would have been delegated to its assault_."

" _At this rate of acceleration relative to us, sir, the enemy constellation will escape effective range of the lasers in approximately four minutes_." Another crewmember reported.

Erwin recalled the simulation he undergone against salarian designed ships, back on the Arena; at the time, for the sake of data gathering, the capabilities of his ships were downgraded.

" _I want to see the reaction of the man on the other side_." Erwin suddenly said. " _Allocate twenty torpedoes to each cruiser; designate the targets to frigates. Maintain laser harassment_."

" _Aye, aye_!"

Firing orders were relayed by the crew on the CIC of the AES _Krishna_ to the fleet, and moments later as their orders were received and interpreted, hundreds of torpedoes began gaining to void and speeding off to meet their retreating targets.

The crew on the flagship watched as bright spots came to life in the void of space through the viewports, and began to dash hundreds of kilometers every second away from their formation.

The viewports, of course, were nothing but digital panels simulating external windows through camera feeds, as the CIC, much like the Weapons Room, was deep inside the hull of the battleship.

" _Four minutes to impact_." A weapons officer declared.

" _Incoming transmission through friendly radio frequencies,"_ A communications officer said from his left after several moments of silence, as he watched the torpedoes fly on the holographic projection ahead of his seat. _"I'm patching it through to your console, admiral_."

" _Very well_ ," Erwin said, observing the little flashing icon on his HUD.

A slightly alarmed voice sounded in his ears pressing a button on his console screen. " _This is Admiral Gelon, of the Lerman clan, human forces respond._ "

" _Admiral, this is Admiral Yardley, 350_ _th_ _Heavy Fleet of the Imperial Navy, what is your situation?_ "

" _Bad_ ," the voice replied after two or so seconds of light-lag. " _I'm in command of the planetary defensive effort, outnumbered by over a hundred vessels; forces are merged in multiple orbits_."

Erwin pursed his lips inside his helmet. " _Can you hold for two or so hours until we arrive?_ "

" _No, of course we_ can't," the salarian answered. " _In thirty minutes my ships will be forced to retreat to friendly space to avoid annihilation and critical heat buildup, we will be left without cover, over half orbital defense sites destroyed in sabotage; your ships are too slow._ "

Erwin considered the situation for a few moments, watching as they torpedoes closed on the skirmishing force.

" _Can we get identification on friendly ships?_ " He asked through the internal communications channel.

A sensorial officer quickly answered. " _No, they all have standard Salarian Union designs; tadar reads their hulls as simply that, optically identifying names and allegiance would take too long_."

" _Two minutes and forty seconds to torpedo impact on skirmishing flotilla, they have killed acceleration and turned to face the torpedoes with their GARDIANs_." Another one reported over their conversation.

Erwin switched to the channel opened with the salarian commander. " _Order all your ships to flare a signal in this radio frequency, we'll identify them as friendly and cut down the numbers of those who do not_."

The alien commander replied after the light-lag with enthusiasm. " _Very well, human, I imagine you'll target them with more of these missiles you released earlier. Thirty two minutes, remember._ "

" _Correct, hang in there_." Erwin replied, shutting down their link, and watched as moments later several ships in the projection flash blue and red, as his technicians and systems sorted them out as friendly or hostile.

" _208 enemy cruisers and 71 frigates accounted for in orbit above the hemisphere we're facing and the opposite one, sir_ ; _the salarians have beamed their own contact data._ " An officer declared over the net. " _Now only seventy frigates_ …"

Erwin voiced an order immediately after hearing the exact numbers. " _All frigates, allocate remaining torpedoes to enemy cruisers, cruisers and battleships hold fire_ , _program maneuvers for torpedoes to avoid the GARDIAN bubble of the flotilla closest to us._ "

Tachyon sweeps reached out across the massive distances as the frigates acquired targeting information on their targets, and moments later, being directed by the flagship, launched roughly twenty torpedoes for each enemy cruiser, with over four thousand guided missiles taking to the void.

The missiles made burns and established elliptical trajectories, in order to avoid the 80K kilometer radius of the UV GARDIANS on the closest ships, and to be able to later maneuver and hit ships in the opposite hemisphere of Tamann

" _Thirty seconds for first salvo impact, and another fourteen minutes until second wave hits, admiral_."

Erwin tapped his fingers on the seat's arm as he observed the first wave approach their maneuvering targets in the holographic display in front of him.

In a time that felt to stretch farther, as was the usual when dealing with guided projectiles, he watched as the figures of the ships that initially met them were hit by multiple torpedoes, overwhelming their already battered electromagnetic shields with multiple impacts.

" _All targets either destroyed or crippled, remaining torpedoes went Pitbull and managed to take down another two frigates._ " An officer called out, not showing much concern or emotion. " _All remaining skirmishing vessels have restarted evasive burns, now faster than before, it seemed they were keeping formation with the cruisers; they're out of effective laser range now_ … _there are a number escape pods, sir_."

" _We'll collect them later_." Erwin dismissed, readjusting the holo display to pan out and show both the planet and his own approaching fleet, thousands and thousands of kilometers reduced to fit in one cubic meter of space.

Minutes rolled by, and the torpedoes reached a light-second relative to their targets.

" _Incoming transmission_ ," an officer declared.

" _Well done human,"_ the salarian admiral sounded in Erwin's ears again after a few moments, in a much more calm and collected voice, not skipping words as salarian tended to do. " _The ships remaining in-between the planet and your fleet have relayed the information of your missile salvo to their main force; they are beginning to disengage now_."

" _I'd be surprised if they stayed to receive the full attack, there are four thousand or so torpedoes out there for them_." Erwin replied. " _Can you continue to pursuit_?"

" _My losses were serious, but I can direct ships to chase them out of our immediate orbit, why?_ "

" _Keeping pressure on them will make an easier job for the torpedoes_." He answered. " _Even if they're retreating in face of the overwhelming number of weapons, destroying more ships will hurt their war effort more_."

" _That is a reasonable request_ ," the alien replied. " _Thank you, human, the mere act of upsetting the correlation of forces has saved many of my ships_."

" _I follow my orders_." Erwin replied, unsure of what to answer exactly.

The missiles continued in their path, now scattering in multiple vectors, adjusting to intercept their targets as they retreated outside of the immediate low orbit of the planet.

" _FTL contacts!_ " One officer suddenly exclaimed, and Erwin's attention snapped away from the projection. " _Fifty…a hundred…two hundred…three hundred; there are 324 vessels approaching in polar vector relative to the star, arrival in ten minutes_."

" _Admiral Gelon_ ," Erwin said over his frequency with the salarian. " _There over three hundred vessels approaching in FTL, you have any intelligence on them?_ "

" _We too have detected a large approaching mass, yes; I wonder how you discriminate them individually…_ " The salarian replied, with decreasing lag as the fleet ever approached the planet. " _Probably landing craft and their escorts; can you engage them? If you can't, this battle is lost._ "

" _Over_ _twenty battleship-sized vessels confirmed, sir_." One officer supplied through their comm channel.

" _Fucking hell_ ," Erwin seethed, eyes running through the list of contacts and their estimated length. " _Alright, fine. Trajectory change on the fleet retreating?_ "

" _No, they remain along scattered paths in…five major groups_."

" _Due to their maneuvers, the ETA for the second wave jumped from five to roughly seven minutes and a half for their general area_." Erwin heard one officer report, observing on the projection that the mass of torpedoes indeed were now in five major intercept or pursuit axis.

" _Admiral_ ," Erwin spoke to the salarian. " _We can manage them, desist of the pursuit and redirect all your ships to intercept incoming vessels. Do you know why they are not in FTL yet?_ "

" _Our fight was intense human_ , _repeatedly entering into FTL in short spans of time puts too much stress on your Eezo drive…_ " the alien began with apparent tiredness in his voice. " _They appear to be communicating and coordinating a single point of general retreat based on star systems nearby, their remaining fuel, heat concerns, and drive charge…if only your ships weren't as slow as milisseks we could cut the short and down_."

" _My ships are slow in comparison to yours, but not my ordinance,"_ he replied slightly annoyed. " _We can deal with the new arrivals; however, I'll need you to stop pursuing them and reform as a single constellation, based on their reaction and on the success of my plan, you retreat_."

The allied commander acknowledged his requests, as Erwin currently held the greatest firepower with the four 2.5 km long capital ships, and as was common, salarian military officers were, above everything, pragmatic in their thinking.

' _Even after the skirmishing flotilla relayed our composition to the main attacking fleet, they remained in combat…either they are indeed retreating, or they are simply adjusting their previous plans to our presence_.' The Imperial thought with eyes shifting from one crewmember inside the CIC to another, recollecting the situation and the past events.

" _Sir,_ Viel-Esán _and the other battleships are requesting your plan of action_."

Erwin turned his head, and noticed the communications officer looked away from his console and up at him.

" _Shock and awe_ ," he replied.

" _Yes, sir!_ " The man nodded profusely, and Erwin could clearly hear his excitement over the channel.

" _Torpedo in GARDIAN range, two minutes and forty seconds to impact, all platforms are defending_."

Erwin called up a detailed projection, seeing as the guided missiles closed in on their targets at cosmic speeds; some were stuck by UV laser and disappeared from the display, being destroyed, others missed, as all weapons no matter how advanced were in danger of doing, but many also stuck their targets with violence.

The salarian vessels were battered already even before the missile strike, with built up heat from the battle, natural extenuation of systems, which were more and more prone to doing mistakes along with their crew; even their shields were not in full condition anymore.

What might have been a violent yet bearable attack, turned into a massacre; cruisers were struck with multiple direct hits by the 1kt warheads encased in gas canisters, with their explosions reverberating across and flashing the gas into jets of plasma and conductors for kinetic energy.

The missiles depleted their beat-up shields and penetrated bulkheads and armor, exploding inside the spaceships, sending chunks of metal in hypervelocity to shred anything in multiple directions, expanding in spheres of flame and pressure across the internal atmosphere of the space vehicles.

The shock of the explosions reverberated through the metallic structures, shattering components and long beams of metallic alloy, holding the superstructure of those ships together.

Those crews lucky enough to not have their fusion reactor turn into haphazard hydrogen bombs, or their ship bisected, could manage to move through the perforated and mangled corridors of their ships and reach the escape pods, gaining to the void in hope of saving their lives.

" _187 enemy cruisers and 5 frigates destroyed._ " One officer reported, amid a round of calm and moderate cheers. " _Escape pods numbering in the low hundreds are adrift_."

" _Three minutes until secondary fleet arrives_."

" _I trust you are going to collect the survivors, Admiral_ …" Erwin said into the channel opened with the salarian commander.

" _Of course, good bargaining chip, we are not barbarians human_ ," he replied quickly. " _We will be able to reform in a high polar orbit soon enough, though I will not sacrifice my ships as cannon fodder."_

" _Rest easy, I won't ask that of you."_ Erwin placated the other officer. " _I reiterate; if my plan does not work, I'll cover your retreat, as your ships are in no condition to participate in another engagement_."

" _Very good_ ," the salarian replied.

The salarian fleet settled to face the incoming vessels, and the short minutes began to build up the tension; Erwin tapped his fingers on the arm rest non-stop.

Blue-shifted comets suddenly streaked down bearing on the planet in blinding speeds, even as they slowed down on the second part of their FTL trip.

" _Identification?_ " Erwin asked immediately, with his ships immediately painting the new arrivals with tadar sweeps; building 3D images of them in their systems.

" _Turian Hierarchy space vehicles…fourteen Menae-class 1km long troop transports, six Palaven-class battleships, or dreadnoughts as they say it_." One officer from his sensorial team reported, and Erwin's stomach dropped. " _The escorts are 212 Digeris-class cruisers, 600m long, and 100 Maxiana-class frigates, 220m long_."

" _We're around 400K kilometers away from them in linear vector_." Another officer reported. " _All_ _of the retreating hostile salarian vessels now in rendezvous trajectories with the turian fleet_."

" _Beam me a radio signal to them, all bands_ , _ready tachyon lances."_ Erwin ordered.

" _Aye, aye, sir!_ "

" _All Turian Hierarchy vessels_ ," Erwin began broadcasting, as a green light lit up and flashed periodically in his HUD. " _This is Admiral Erwin Yardley, of the 350_ _th_ _Heavy Fleet of the Imperial Navy, please respond to this broadcast."_

He repeated the signal once again, and tapped his fingers on the arm rest as he awaited a response.

" _They are returning the message_ ,"

" _Admiral, I am General Veralia Gavrian, and this is a military operation on the behalf of the Citadel Council and Turian Hierarchy Armed Forces; surrender your ships or retreat out of our AO, or we'll be forced to engage_." The alien's voice sounded over the room's speakers, modulated by the translators to appear female, yet with the distinctive flanging turian sound.

" _General, the Empire is not in a state of war against the Hierarchy, you do_ not _wish to escalate this situation_." Erwin warned. " _This is a mistake, this battle is over_."

After the light-lag of the signal reaching the turian fleet, and their answer arriving, Erwin heard inside his helmet. " _Admiral, you are outnumbered by a factor of two; your salarian auxiliary forces are in no shape to fight. I say again, surrender or retreat, or be prepared to be engaged_."

" _Identify the broadcasting vessel_ ," He commanded, switching over to their internal channel.

" _…the broadcasting vessel is the_ _HSV_ Serius, _a_ _dreadnought."_ The reply came shortly from one officer down in the console pits.

" _Designate targets, lock tachyon lances on enemy capital ships, ignore the_ Serius _and troop transports_." Erwin spoke after a few moments of consideration.

His command was relayed to the dagger-shaped and stark white battleships, with their lance pods moving and angling, aiming directly across the vastness of space on the turian ships.

" _General Gavrian_ ," he broadcasted once again. " _This is my last warning; you do not wish to escalate this_."

The answer came this time without the cordial tone of the past communications. " _I stand by what I said, Admiral. This exchange is over_."

" _Sir, the enemy fleet is reorienting itself…and, now burning in interception vector_ , _troop transports have remained in high altitude orbit over the planet,_ " Erwin heard the situation being described. " _A large number of cruisers and frigates are detaching from their general formation and burning with increased speed, they will reach us first in…fifty five minutes...capital ships expected to merge in an hour and twenty minutes, they are considerably faster_."

" _Admiral_ ," Erwin spoke, reopening the channel with the salarian. " _Get out of this system_ ,"

" _Good luck human, the defense of our homes is in your hands…and thank you_."

" _Fire_ ," Erwin said with resignation, after closing the channel with the allied commander.

After the acknowledgement, he watched the digital viewports for the impending flash, and decided to quote poetry, broadcasting his voice to the entire fleet: " _Vanish in the wake of lightning, o enemy mine_."

Exotic wave-particles shot out of the telescope-like mounts at twice the speed of light in vacuum, reaching their targets as bright green beams not thicker than a human hand in less than a second.

Bearing over 20Mt in equivalent energy, they bypassed the kinetic barriers of the turian dreadnoughts, tearing apart at the atomic level the surface that they hit, transferring the massive energy in the kinetic and thermal mediums through the superstructure of the ships.

Similar to the simulations undergone in the Arenas, the effect was catastrophic: the ships erupted in incoherent atoms, superheated plasma, and millions of outbound pieces of white-hot debris.

The directed energy weapons left no time for reaction, evasion, or escape, and five thousand crewmembers perished instantly on the four dreadnoughts.

In a flash, they were dead; being painlessly atomized, in the first combat use of tachyon lances in centuries, since the end of the Human-Tzynn wars and the Great Interstellar War.

" _Splash four!_ " A weapon's officer reported. " _Lance heat levels at their maximum, complete cooling in fifty minutes_."

" _Extreme-range kinetic fire detected_." Another quickly interjected. " _Surviving enemy battleships have begun to fire, thanix weaponry confirmed, muzzle velocity 7000km/s_ … _shots will arrive in fifty seven seconds estimated._ "

" _Realign fleet, intercept their constellation, all ships maintain formation_." Erwin ordered.

' _They have_ _outstanding discipline given the sudden loss of four capital ships…or suicidal stupidity_.' Erwin thought, as he eyes the holographic projection of the incoming enemy fleet.

And so the fleet obeyed, angling their ships along their vertical axis and burning to intercept the turian fleets, in opposite vectors to each other.

" _ETA now forty minutes for detached flotilla, one hour to enemy battleships_."

" _Friendlies have begun their FTL retreat; both the hostile salarian vessels in between the planet and us and the ones fleeing its orbit have engaged in diversionary trajectories, they appear to be moving away from the action entirely_."

" _Out of laser and railcannon range, and too few in numbers, in any case_ ," The human admiral said. " _Fleet wide command, when we reach 300K relative to the first wave escorts, engage them with all Sunburn munitions. All battleships prepare to evade enemy kinetic fire._ "

" _Aye, aye_!"

The seconds rolled by, as the turian dreadnoughts continued their non-stop bombardment, and the sluggish human battleships began series of lateral, vertical and diagonal maneuvers to evade the shots, all while keeping their bows pointed at the enemy.

One of those shots impacted the shields of Erwin's ship, the metallic 100kg slug disintegrating into millions of grains of superheated dust as the universal defensive shields deflected and absorbed the impact.

" _Damn_ … _585 kilotons of kinetic energy, the reports appear to be accurate, six rounds per minute._ "

" _Singularity drive ready for jump in nineteen minutes after finishing cooldown_."

" _Tadar indicates multiple new contacts; the dreadnoughts are releasing small craft_."

" _Admiral, the COs of the other capitals ships wish to speak with you_."

" _Put them through_." Erwin said, as he heard the multiple reports, pressing a button on his console and making their conversation private.

" _Erwin, we can't possibly win this_." The voice of the captain in command of AES _Orion_ sounded on his helmet, with his HUD indicating who spoke at the moment. " _Outnumbered by enemies in pristine condition, faster than us, with longer kinetic range, with all our frigate torpedoes spent; we need to disengage_."

" _He's right, Admiral, we cannot bludgeon our way into this_." The CO of the _Subjugator_ chimed in.

The last input came from the captain commanding the Viel-Esán. " _As much as I am glad that our first engagement will have such a high number of ships destroyed…they are_ right _, we are outnumbered and even if we are not destroyed we will suffer high losses if we commit to melee_."

" _I know_ ," Erwin replied with confidence. " _But we cannot leave this place without causing some substantial damage_ ; _once we reach the 300K mark, the cruisers will fire all Sunburn munitions on the approaching escorts, and we, in turn, will arc our own torpedoes to hit the troop transports, bypassing their fleet._ "

Seconds of silence followed, as his subordinate captains considered his plan.

"… _with infrared GARDIANs they will have a shortened time to intercept the missiles in comparison to the UV PDs on the salarian ships, and no EM shielding, albeit the number of munitions is suboptimal to engage the detached flotilla, and they probably have a higher heat endurance." Orion's_ captain spoke, musing about the tactical plan. " _However, in the case of the transports_ , _with this number of torpedoes allocated to such few ships we might just be able to negate the purpose of their presence here_."

" _That is what I thought; we do not need to destroy their warships, merely the transports."_ The admiral concluded. " _Although, that will yield massive casualties in terms of personnel, and I don't know the exact political implications of this_ …"

" _They wanted conflict, they got it, this is war and I can care less about their losses_." The officer in command of _Viel-Esán_ said in a cold tone. " _This is good, if the transports are destroyed the maximum of damage they can do is establish a blockade around the planet, and those can be broken with follow-up forces."_

After a short discussion about minutiae of the attack itself, they closed their connection, and awaited the ten long minutes until the human fleet and the larger turian detachment were at roughly a light-second of each other.

Erwin kept tapping his fingers at his arm-rest, watching in his HUD as the countdown to the specified mark decreased, with one officer of his crew reporting at each elapsed minute.

The bombardment from the enemy capital ships was incessant, and at times lucky and well-placed shots managed to overcome the gargantuan range and splash themselves against the shields of one of the human battleships.

But many of them simply streaked across the cosmos in dazzling speeds, nothing more than flashes of light, similar to comets or shooting stars flying past the dagger-shaped vessels.

Or even glancing shots, hitting the shields of the ships at an angle too acute, and being deflected as if hitting solid armor.

Their shields were potent, reverse-engineered and improved on from Yërun designs, they could stop energies similar to a tachyon lance beam, 20Mt of energy to be tapped onto, double that of Salarian Union dreadnoughts, when equipped with electromagnetic shields based on telluric gas.

" _300K to enemy vanguard_ ," the officer doing the countdown reported.

" _All cruisers, full Sunburn salvo at the incoming flotilla, coordinate overwhelming allocation of munitions at individual targets_ ," Erwin ordered at once. "Orion _,_ Viel-Esán _,_ Subjugator _, and_ Krishna _are to fire their own torpedoes at parabolic trajectory and bypass turian GARDIAN bubble, targeting troop transports, equal allocation of munitions_."

" _Aye, aye, sir!_ "

His orders were relayed across the fleet in seamless and trained fashion, and soon enough thousands of guided projectiles took to the void, being cold-launched off the hulls of their parent spacecraft in waves.

The four Jupiter-class battleships released themselves 1536 Sunburn torpedoes each, with long VLS racks along their white hulls, and the cruisers each released 32 munitions, carrying less than a frigate due to their own already extensive kinetic cannons and DEWs.

In total, 7168 SS-N-65s were launched in ripple waves of hundreds of missiles, igniting their metallic-hydrogen engines and speeding off in velocities far exceeding those of their parent vehicles.

Thousands of bright-white spots came to life in the digital viewports, and began to dim out until they became numerous new constellations in the black dome of space, flying away from the human assemblage of ships.

" _Eight minutes until impact with first detachment_ ," One officer reported, as the speed from the incoming ships added to the projectiles in cumulative manner. " _Thirteen minutes and twenty seconds until impact with troop transports in orbit._ "

" _First flotilla is emitting radar and ladar sweeps, radio communication is frantic_."

" _Enemy small craft has split in multiple formations, all them in interception vectors relative to the torpedoes."_

" _Enemy ships engaged in multiple erratic burns, attempts at evasion it seems, they are liberating guided electronic decoys along their path_."

" _All of our ships have begun jamming of radar frequencies."_

Erwin heard the reports, but his eyes were focused on the holographic display ahead of him, seeing as their torpedoes shot across space to meet their targets, with every second seeming to stretch longer and longer.

Minutes passed and the tension Erwin felt built up gradually, as the technical aspects of the operation ran through his head: tracking systems, maneuvering nozzles, the reflective surfaces of the torpedoes, the lasers on the enemy warships, impact times, warhead yield…

All of those and more kept building up in a massive list that ensured that the man kept tapping his fingers on his arm rest; he could feel he was beginning to sweat cold.

" _First wave in terminal, GARDIAN engaging, sixty seconds until impact_ , _five minutes ETA for second attack,_ " the added speed of torpedoes and their targets diminished the impact time by a small margin, as the turian ships did change their general trajectory.

The human admiral watched on the projection as here and there torpedoes stopped cold and were crisscrossed by a red 'X' and then disappeared from the projection, indicating that they were either destroyed or disabled somehow by the infrared lasers on the turian ships.

They faced capable relatively unstressed systems, and well trained crews; however, the GARDIANs on the Hierarchy vessels were not the same UV lasers present on state-of-the-art Union vessels, as the galaxy at large preferred their reliability and cheap price to the greater range and effectiveness of the other.

It was a battle of electronic components; it involved algorithms, heat management systems, tracking tadars on the noses of the torpedoes, the radars and ladars on the turian ships, and the mechanical constraints of such systems, with one of the most important variables being the ever-present and all-encompassing clash of probabilities that some called 'fate'.

As ever, they struck with violence, hitting the fresh barriers of the ships in successive explosions of white hot plasma and kinetic shock, rapidly depleting them.

If the situation was seen from a simple mathematical perspective, the 1024 torpedoes launched by the Imperial cruisers would not be able to deplete kinetic barriers were they equally distributed by all ships.

In total, the vanguard flotilla of the turian invasion force was composed of three fourths of their cruisers and half their frigates, sent to weather down and ties the human force in combat while the dreadnoughts bombarded occupied ships from a distance.

The rest remained cruising in formation with the two surviving dreadnoughts, behind the vanguard at a slower burn speed.

However, the unequal distribution of munitions meant that the large majority had received no torpedoes, while a few received overwhelming amounts of projectiles to deal with.

In the deadly ballet of invisible radiation, metallic-hydrogen propelled missiles, and frantically maneuvering ships, 11 of the Digeris-class cruisers were destroyed, and 15 of the smaller frigates shot down, and their hulls continued through inertial as slag, in the same trajectories of the once-ships.

And once again, multiple reports came in:

" _Pushkov-Martinelli generators ready, drive heat dissipated fleet-wide_."

" _Multiple targets destroyed or incapacitated, there's a number of escape pods adrift_."

" _Enemy cruisers have begun long-range kinetic fire, forty seconds for first impacts, fleet automatically evading_."

" _Small-craft have begun to merge and intercept secondary torpedo wave, torpedoes evading space-to-space missiles_."

" _Shields now down to 90%_ , _enemy battleships are continuing bombardment._ "

Erwin relayed his own orders, with his projection now focusing on the second wave of torpedoes, aimed at the troop transports high above the planet: " _Cruisers and capitals return kinetic fire, free targeting, and have lasers at the ready if the enemy vanguard reaches 150K_."

Smaller icons representing turian interceptors dashed across the void, merging in 'boom and zoom' maneuvers, with a single change to gun down the missiles with either their mass accelerator cannons or their own missiles; pursuit was impossible, as the Sunburns had more than twice their acceleration.

Their attempts were sometimes successful, and a torpedo ceased to exist, but in their majority thwarted by the evasive maneuvers performed by the guided weapons, or simple mistakes.

But the mass of Sunburns continued strong, numbering in the thousands, with trajectories going well outside the GARDIAN bubbles around the turian vanguard and the dreadnoughts, either above, below, or on their horizontal extremities, angling for a single target.

As the fleets traded shots, the differences between them became clear.

Turian Thanix weaponry was _fast_ and consequently orders more powerful than the human one, mounted on stelarite railcannons.

Indeed both were more powerful in terms of speed, power, and projectile weight when compared to a base mass accelerator or simply railgun, but the effect they had on the tactical battlefield differed from each other; and the Thanix was decidedly a superior weapon.

Combining mass effect technology and the turian's own newly-developed stelarite weaponry, they could throw more mass at higher speeds, increasing damage and range, and thus diminishing the reaction time for their targets.

While human weapons fired 20kg rounds at 2000km/s, turian cruisers fired their own 30kg spinal cannon rounds at 4000km/s, giving them the power of dreadnoughts of past eras.

And so their duel picked up, with a mass of shots from the surviving turian cruisers, streaking down to hit the human formation in less than a minute and decreasing as both sides closed in opposite trajectories, and the humans returning fire with shots that took two minutes to reach the turians.

Albeit both of them fired them in intervals of five seconds, the speed of the rounds and the mobility was the deciding factor in the effectiveness of the long-range kinetic duel.

At an average distance of 220K km, the great majority of the slugs fired by the humans went wide, even having a decidedly higher volume of fire due to the larger number of guns facing the enemy; however, they face extremely potent guns from the turian vanguard.

The battleships, with titanic shields and negligible agility, soaked the enemy cruiser fire, attempting to evade the shots sent by the dreadnoughts, while cruisers and frigates did their respective best to evade, with their turreted mounts ensured that the Imperial fleet returned fire even when maneuvering.

All that happened under the shadow of the constant hammering done by the surviving turian dreadnoughts.

" _Shields down to 80%_ ,"

" _Two minutes to second impact of second Sunburn wave_."

" _We'll confirm the impacts, and then relay data stats and files to command, and_ then _retreat in FTL_." Erwin told the crew on his bridge.

He then set his voice to broadcast over the entire fleet: " _All ships, two minutes, hang in there for two more minutes; you did your best today, and we'll blast the bastards to kingdom come one last time_."

He watched a round from one of the dreadnoughts impact his ship's UDS, and splattered itself into dust against the invisible wall, while multiple other smaller ones did the same, originating from the cruisers.

It was clear the enemy was focusing their kinetic fire on the four battleships.

" _Shields down to 65%,_ "

" _Second wave entering terminal, GARDIAN PD intercepting, one minute and thirty seconds!_ " Erwin could hear that apprehension and excitement laced the young man's voice, as he reported on the torpedoes.

The wave of space-to-space missiles was absolutely massive for the fourteen vessels to repel in any significant capacity; originally, at their launch and before the interception by turian fighters, there were over four hundred torpedoes allocated to each ship.

And even being intercepted by the enemy fighter craft, it was no avail to cut their numbers in any significant manner.

At 40K km away from their ships, the Menae-class transports began to intercept the projectiles with their own infrared lasers frantically, cutting them down or disabling the missiles.

But there were simply _too many_ of them.

Series of dozens of explosions went off on the kinetic barriers of the ships, plummeting their energy levels in rapid manner, as kiloton after kiloton of equivalent energy was dumped on them, until they simple gave up, with a still enormous mass of guided missiles streaking through the void to hit the ships.

Once unprotected by the kinetic barriers, they were reduced to a smoldering masses of debris and Eezo dust clouds, as the torpedoes pierced their armor at hypervelocity and exploded either deep inside their hulls or on the outer surface.

Steel and polymer was teared apart as if they were paper, living compartments that were not heavy shielded were riddled with hypervelocity spall, and oxygen leaked in steady streams throughout the vessels.

Innumerable pieces of metal, either large or small shot across the ships together with the pressure and shock of the explosions until the superstructure gave up and shattered in multiple places.

Only one ship survived by pure chance out of the fourteen; its barriers held, and the GARDIAN systems could intercept the great majority of the incoming Sunburns, who were in a drastically lower number.

It owed the lives of its crew and passengers to the interceptors released by the dreadnoughts.

In the end, in that fateful minute of racing missiles and radiation beams, around two million and six hundred thousand turians, raloi, and volus perished on the ships, accounting for both the crews and the ground units they carried.

And even though general loss of life was catastrophic, the servicemen aboard the ships of the 350th Heavy Fleet, and the populace down on Tamann couldn't help but cheer, profusely and in deep emotion.

They might not have been able to defeat the enemy head on, due to a series of factors largely outside their control, but they stopped them from completing their own mission.

And the multitude of clans and individuals on the planet, celebrated the deliverance of the hardships of invasion; having watched closely both through image broadcasts and with sensors such as radars the battle unfold.

From the arrival of the other salarian fleet, to the desperate battle above their atmosphere as fleets merged and ground defenses fired away, to the arrival of the human fleet and the effective rout of the invading one, to the unexpected arrival of the turian forces.

Even the four bright beams of light that lit up the dark hemisphere of the planet, to the duel between the humans and turians, and the eventual destruction of the troop ships, everything was watched, broadcasted, and recorded.

Thousands of individuals uploaded their own versions of the battle to the extranet, be them blog entries, or amateur or semi-professional videos, or their own telemetric data.

At the same time the human fleet disengaged, sending the information of their battle to Mars through subspace waves, and jumping into the Dirac Sea through their singularities, maneuvering in unison even as the turian vanguard flotilla and the two dreadnoughts fired incessantly at the Imperials.

Escaping the unbridled fury of the numerically superior turian fleet, even as their thrusters burned with intensity, avid for revenge as they watched impotently as their brothers-in-arms being killed and turned into flaming husks.

* * *

 _Citadel Tower, Irissa's personal office._

Irissa had long forgotten the teacup that rested on her table, and the liquid had turned cold many minutes ago.

Her focus shifted from her personal haptic computer, to the flatscreen on the opposite wall to her desk, as she reviewed the news about the most recent engagement in what was already referred to as the Third Salarian Civil War.

All what the major news sources could talk about were direct energy weaponry, hypervelocity anti-ship missiles, Thanix mass accelerators, and the countless images and videos taken from the engagement.

Despite only lasting forty or so minutes, it shook the galaxy.

 _The Armali Post_ displayed on their website: " _FIRST ENGAGEMENT BETWEEN HUMAN AND TURIAN FORCES ABOVE TAMANN_."

" _MAJOR DEFEAT FOR THE HIERARCHY; NEARLY 3 MILLION DEAD_." Read on _Ilium Today_ , as the anchors spoke with invited experts.

" _EXOTIC HUMAN WEAPONRY TURNS THE TIDE; OUR FULL TECHNICAL ANALYSIS_." _Spacefaring Review_ , an online magazine dedicated to all matters relating to spaceships, and space warfare, read at their homepage, displaying a joint article by the editorial staff.

The anti-system _Independent Tribune_ displayed in bold letters: " _THE FLAMES OF WAR REACH TAMANN, COUNCIL TO BLAME._ "

"This will get out of hand." Tevos spoke, sitting in a sofa, right below the flatscreen.

"It already _is_ out of hand," Irissa shot back. "The first peace talks will only happen in two days, that is, if they happen _at all_ …"

"Many things can happen in meantime." Her predecessor spoke. "You are a competent woman, Irissa, but the Matriarchy is in a state of shock, this was a surprise. Have you spoken with their prince?"

"Briefly, he left me-" Irissa cut herself shot, before quickly amending. "…he left the _station_ before his father began his speech; he must still be in route to Sol."

"He spoke that they expected it to last a month at most, he did not give me any details about what they planned to do."

Irissa turned her attention to the screen on the wall, eyes rising above Tevos blank face, an asari spoke to a salarian. " _So, Dr. Malien, what is your take on these lasers, these beams of green light?"_

 _"I have reviewed the battle recordings by groundside sources, and judging by the parallax between the two fleets it becomes obvious that they were at more than a light seconds away."_ The salarian, sitting in swiveling chair beside the anchors, stated in clinical manner. " _Readings by the Lerman University, at the planet belonging to the clan of its namesake, indicate extreme levels of cosmic background radiation, the main_ difference _is that the beams reached their targets effectively faster than light."_

 _"Is that even possible?"_ The same anchor questioned him.

 _"Is it possible to generate negative mass and for ships to travel between star systems? It obviously is, technology surrounding element zero allows so, and through the means of technology the Aryan Empire has made this event, faster-than-light directed energy weaponry, happen too."_ The scientist quickly replied, eyes blinking upward. " _I have already supplied a résumé to the human government, and as soon as this conflict ceases I expect to spend my time in their places of learning, we have much to gain by sharing knowledge."_

"What do the Matriarchs plan to do?" Irissa questioned, eyes lowering onto Tevos's face again. "They won't agree to any ceasefires just now, there is no way."

"Now it is best to see if the turians will take further action, it is probable that they will get more aggressive, of course, though we do not see them escalating this by sending additional forces to the Union." Tevos said while looking to the wide expanse that was the Citadel and the Nebula, on the far transparent wall to her right, being on Irissa's left. "The salarians and turians…this was…unexpected, and _unwelcome_ , we need a fallback, and inexorably we'll need to get closer to the humans and elysians."

"Generally, given your… _relationship_ dare I say?" Tevos opened a smirk, teasing Irissa. "This approximation will be done without resistance on the higher echelons of power, and this is a much welcome development; he is the future ruler of all mankind after all."

"I am not with him for political gain," Irissa said, resolute. "Although I _can_ see your point; I will not let this opportunity go to waste."

"The Goddess has blessed you, Irissa." Tevos replied. "Few can ally duty and pleasure. Do you think they are reliable?"

"They are an odd mix," Irissa sighed. "They have stuck with us so far, so you'd think they are reliable, but then they turn disadvantage into opportunity with the Sesoln, and ultimately, beyond general and vague notions, we have no idea what they are going to do next."

"On a broader level, the average human is _fanatical_ to the idea of mankind; the overreaching collective of individuals, united in blood, supernatural destiny, and social solidarity," Irissa continued in her assessment, recalling her moments with Constantine and his particular insight. "I believe you have seen that bundle of sticks or arrows symbol of theirs; it is basically that, alone they can be snapped, united they are unbreakable."

A pause. "That does not translate into xenophobia in _all_ cases, like with many batarians, but they will be bound to the collective interests of their government, which in their minds conflate with their own." Irissa's eyes sought the Nebula, gazing ships coming to and from. "Take the case of elysians, for example, they are an integral, although peripheral at the same time, part of mankind; the humans would go to any length for them, after all they are in symbiosis."

"If we manage, through the decades, to make our society, government, or even economy, if not integral, but a part of what they see as…not exactly their property, but an extended kin, they will ultimately side with us in the issues that _really_ matter," Irissa concluded, focus turning back to Tevos. "If one day the average human sees us in such a light, it will by definition reflect the views of their government, their military, and so on…"

"But don't fool yourself; _aesthetics_ played a huge role in all of those events." Irissa added, rising from her seat to pace around the room. "Were we not similar in appearance, be it facial, structural, and so on, this alliance would have _never_ take place."

"It seems everything favors us if we chose to strengthen our relations to them." Tevos said, eyes following the woman in front of her, as Irissa's focus changed from device to device. "Who do you want to send to the peace talks?"

"Anyone will do, it won't yield any results anyway." Irissa dismissed, returning to sit behind her desk, and typing in the haptic keyboard.

She paused, and looked up to Tevos. "But…send Nassana Dantius, I have heard good things about her."

* * *

 _Rannadril, Sesoln territory._

Teso ran through the night, his turian legs carrying him forward with speed, panting heavily as he sweated between his plating, making dark wet spots appear on his clothing.

He had ditched the flight suit long ago, fleeing from his landing site unencumbered by the zero-g equipment, taking with him only the survival kit, and his service pistol, retrieved from the compartment under his ejected seat.

He had woken up shortly after losing consciousness, observing that the VI had ejected him, his last memories being of merging at high supersonic with the salarian drone and exchanging slugs.

Then he had begun to run, but not before activating his seat's self-destruct mechanism.

If he could judge from the booms, both sonic, and the ones that appeared to lift earth into the air, the assault had continued, and now in the wilderness he could see bright spots cross the sky in dazzling speeds into space.

Orbital defense blasted away at their ships from hidden positions, safe from return fire due to the Citadel Conventions; however, they were not safe from strikes made by small craft, and Teso hoped that the fighters from his carrier, the _Katsuragi_ , were doing their job.

He had long moved away from the rolling plains he had fallen into dense temperate forests, and bugs flew about in the air around him, the sounds of the night filling his hearing organs.

He was certain that Search and Rescue teams would be sent after downed pilots, but not to properly rescue them so much as to take them as POWs.

He had his own radio, with variable range and power, but he was afraid to use it and lead salarians to his own position; though he ultimately though that this would not be needed, as the planet would soon fall to Hierarchy troops, and he was sure that his squadron mates saw him being ejected.

His duty now was to evade capture, and hinder the enemy's defenses in any way he could.

He stopped running and kneeled on the ground for a few moments, listening to the sounds of nature for anything unusual; and upon deciding that everything was already, he unslung the small pack from his back, and holstered the pistol on his hip.

Beyond the pistol, he also held a utility knife strapped on his right thigh.

He opened the pack eagerly, snatching an emergency ration; dextro-meat, dried, packed with preservers, and highly caloric.

He was relatively unharmed, save for a cut on his left arm, that he chose only to disinfect with a small amount of his limited medical supplies, saving gauze and bandages for a more serious wound.

Although turians could run in a high speed, due to their evolutionary heritage from omnivorous ambush predators, more exemplified in the shape of their legs, they lacked the endurance; and so he had to take many stops to regain his breath.

' _I've got food for a week, and the planet is levo-based_.' He thought, making another inventory of his possessions while eating the meat bar; he had few bandages, one flask of medical alcohol, and two antibiotic shots in plastic syringes, and enough water-purifying chemicals, but soon he would run out of meat rations, and his water canteen was half empty.

He leaned back on a tree trunk, sitting on the dirt, and looked up to the starlit sky, where war raged across the monumental distances.

Soon, he finished his stipulated quota of rations for the day, and kept looking to the sky, searching for shooting stars.

After a couple hours of rest, the sounds of the forest died out, and only silence remained.

' _Silence in the forest is bad!_ ' He snapped to attention, slinging his bag on his back again and standing up abruptly, pistol in hand.

A voice sounded in the darkness: "We have you surrounded, turian, surrender and you will be treated fairly!"

Teso paid no mind to the offer of surrender and shot at the dark trees, aiming for the direction he assumed the voice came from, leaping into a quick run to the opposite direction.

"Get him!" He heard again, and he did not stop.

For a minute or so he ran, leaping over ditches, fallen trunks, and streams of water.

He saw a glimpse of movement to his right, eyes focusing instinctively at that spot of his vision.

He blasted off with the semi-automatic pistol, not caring if it was wildlife or a soldier, and kept running for his freedom.

The sound of flowing water kept increasing, he was pumped of etrenaline, and it took a few seconds for him to realize that he was running into a river, which appeared to be large given the increasing of the sound.

He turned hard to the left; it was common knowledge that turians simply did not swim, and even though specialized military training conditioned them to float, actually getting places was simply not in their physiology.

He burst through a series of bushes, past large trees, and was suddenly slammed by _something_ hard at his left.

He fell to the ground, and attempted to stand up immediately, but foreign limbs suddenly wrestled with his own; the pistol fell off his grip.

"Surrender already!" The salarian soldier grappling with him shouted.

He was by default stronger, but the salarian was wiry and flexible, limbs escaping at the last second as they rolled in the dirt.

Teso managed to create an opening, and he pulled out his knife, ready to plunge it deep into the salarian.

" _Die!_ " Teso shouted, lifting his knife-wielding arm high while on top of the salarian, with his other arm pinning one of the alien's own limbs.

But he could not complete his desperate fight for freedom, as he did not hear the hurried footsteps behind him; all he registered was a sharp pain in the base of his neck and skull, as something hit him _hard_.

And for the second time in the war, his world turned black, and he fell limply atop the salarian, knife still in hand.

* * *

 **A/N:** I wonder if anyone will notice the infinitesimal reference to another franchise made on this chapter; but anyway, I hope all of you have enjoyed.

So, you read mentions of vectors, kilometers per second and other things, and I must say: this is **not** hard sci-fi, and I have no pretensions of it being so.

I have _zero_ inclination to calculate delta-V and trajectories for fictional spaceships, so instead I just try to make it verisimilar, as best as I can, that is, fitting my own suspension of disbelief for the setting at hand. If I fail your own, I am sorry, and I hope that it still entertained you in some way.

In any other case, I hope you all have liked this chapter; and if you did, or did not, leave me a review!

Thanks for reading.


	21. Shock and Awe

**A/N:** Happy 2019! This was edited by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Terra, Central Command Bunker._

"Are you _sure_ of this?" Ferdinand questioned, eyeing the young officer in the eye.

The theatrically large flatscreens on the angled walls of the room provided illumination beyond the white lamps above the circular table.

"Absolutely, sir," the Navy officer replied, nodding once. "Both the Office of Naval Intelligence and Military Intelligence Corps believe that the pursuit of objectives both groundside and spaceside are necessary for the success of the battle plans on the strategic level."

"Forcing their hand into committing reserve naval forces against our own fleets will result in a single draw-out battle of annihilation, one which we will invariably win." The young man continued, calling up series of data displays and projections in the holographic display at the center of the room. "By drawing the enemy to focus on our own actions, the Sesoln and Solus fleets will be able to have more operational freedom, as we will be perceived as a higher threat."

The projection shifted as some new data was highlighted. "The turians will make it harder to complete the battle plans, but by committing the heavy fleets to these battles, attacking objectives they cannot afford to leave undefended or lose, we'll strangle them of options."

Jack added his own input. "The turians, like us, are fighting in foreign territory, defending foreign objectives; they have nothing to lose on a macroscopic level, and as such, they will act without regard to collateral damage, and so, they will at one point clash with the interests of the Vaerdall."

"The plan called up for the blockade, and _then_ invasion of strategically important planets, once naval superiority had been achieved, but speeding up the pace of conflict after those first forty eight hours of space engagements, is now in accord with our interests." The other officer in green uniform continued. "For now, the war is restricted to glittering starlight in the night sky, or reports on news channels, and the populace soon forgets about that. But when our tanks roam their countryside, when our bombs fall on vital structure, when the cities are cut off from power, then it will be in their faces."

* * *

 _Janis, Vaerdall-aligned planet, D+2 of Operation Steel Rain._

In silence, but flaring light and radiation, hundreds of ships emerged from the Dirac Sea into the cold void of space; slipping out of the space beyond what could be touched, out of the confines of light and matter, breaching the fabric of space and time with the cold blade of technology.

The 548th Strike Fleet finally completed its trip, breaching thousands of light-years worth of hypermatter, cruising currents of exotic material in a place that ignored physics.

Erik's gaze shifted from the digital viewports toward the holographic representation in front of him, slowly being updated with new contacts as the ship's sensors stretched out across empty space.

As usual, the CIC was in darkness, with the crew's helmets illuminated by the light of their displays and computers.

Waves of tachyon particles flew at speeds orders faster than light in vacuum, hitting the enemy ships and being reflected back at their point of origin, with the systems interpreting regular metal constructs from asteroids as their tadars scanned the star system.

Five planets spun lazily around a single blue star, the two first being nothing but agglomerates of magma, with the third being Janis itself, followed by an asteroid ring, a greenhouse planet of noxious gases, and a lifeless and airless rock at the edge of the system.

The reports were quick to flood Erik's ears…

" _Drive ready to jump in thirty minutes as usual, no damage reported_."

" _Heat endurance at 19.5%, lithium-sodium tanks full, radiating through ceramic strips_."

" _Fleet reports 120 cruisers and 47 frigates in a single constellation orbiting around the planet, relative distance is…250K altitude to the planet 40K, sir_ ," one officer spoke into their internal channel. " _All of them match standard Union design; no other constellation in the vicinity, the fleet awaits orders_."

" _Good, communicate the Battlegroups to standby_."

The admiral referred to their accompanying Army Battlegroups, who loitered not one light year away from the point of battle, awaiting the resolution and initial landings by the Imperial Navy Marine Corps detachments present on the strike carriers.

The 548th had two of such ships as their capital vessels, the _Stockholm_ and the _Valencia_ , with the latter being Erik's own flagship.

The Neptune-class carriers stood at 1500m long, sharing the same dagger-shaped hull design used by battleships and the decommissioned battlecruisers, the main difference between them being armament and complement.

Each carrier housed two marine brigades, over ten thousand men at the direct command of the fleet commanding officer, alongside their transport crafts and small craft, ditching tachyon lances, gamma lasers, and the large number of railguns present on battleships.

" _These are probably the upgraded models we've heard about; else they wouldn't be expecting us_ …" Erik commented aloud, musing for a few seconds before ordering: " _All ships_ _align to merge and extend tachyon sweeps to maximum range, escort squadrons are to detach from capitals and burn at cruiser-level military power, and carriers remain in current orbit_."

" _Aye, aye!_ "

The two carriers were accompanied by 50 Crusader-class cruisers and 100 Fencer-class frigates, being divided in formations attached to the carriers themselves.

Each capital had administrative and a more flexible tactical command of those squadrons at the discretion of the fleet CO, the 25 cruisers and 50 frigates to each carrier, and being then divided in five squadrons that could act independently if the order was given.

The ships maneuvered, spinning and aligning themselves to the enemy fleet, and as they did so, the image of the planet came to life on their digital viewports, a world of blue and white.

Fusion engines came to life, propelling constructs weighting hundreds of thousands of tons forward across space, appearing to a distant observer as nothing more than bright spots of incandescent light, with their exhausts extending many kilometers behind their parent vessels, plumes of fire at temperatures reaching millions of degrees.

" _Escort vessels detaching from main formation, the enemy fleet is matching our movement, they'll merge with the escorts at…16 minutes from now_."

Erik nodded and ordered again: " _Escorts are to engage with railcannons and gamma lasers when relative distance is at 150K, hold torpedo fire until my own order_."

In the 3D holographic display, blue diamonds separated themselves from the two carriers, leaving the circular orbit to engage in a meeting trajectory with numerous red cubes.

" _Deploy spy satellites in different orbits_."

As Erik gave the order, small pods on the two carriers deployed autonomous satellites in the void.

The constructs were relatively small, but useful nonetheless; high resolution multispectral cameras and accurate tadars, along with a t-link capacity, powered by a single plasma fuel cells with enough fuel for a year and secondary solar cells.

The main difference was that it was coated in stealthy material and built in deflective geometry, extendable radiator panels were designed to dump heat into the cold of space in a direction always opposite of the planet, with course corrections being done by gravity generators instead of reaction engines.

The black machines detached from their compartments along the carriers, turning on their gravity generators, moving away with attraction-repulsion fields around themselves; some moved towards geostationary orbits, others maneuvered to establish polar orbits.

All them began moving towards the space of the immediate battle, but too slow to affect it in any way; they would only be in place hours after the engagement.

But now, the collective focus laid elsewhere: the dashing ships, rushing to meet their enemies and unleash death.

The minutes rolled by as Erik observed the closing fleets, his two carriers having remained behind, not really built to melee space combat, instead carrying atmospheric strike craft.

" _All escorts have begun kinetic and laser fire, enemy muzzle flashes detected, standing by for projectile detection; EM shielding confirmed by gamma laser fire_."

" _The constellations will merge in ten minutes_."

" _Good,_ " Erik replied. " _All squadrons have maneuver freedom, but torpedo fire at my command._ "

Across the emptiness of space, slugs flew at incredible velocities, aimed by fire control computers at the behest of their operators; metal, plastic, and flesh all bound together in a crescendo of destruction.

The Imperial ships had greater volume of fire, awarded by turreted mounts instead of fixed spinal ones found widespread in Citadel navies, but as consequence their final kinetic energy was lower.

Offset by this, the super-conductibility of stelarite allowed for lower energy consumption and a waste heat generation significantly lower than an Eezo mass accelerator.

But fundamentally, the bows of the salarian fleets had to remain facing the enemy if they wanted to utilize their spinal cannons, a concern that was not shared by the humans, as the turrets enjoyed 360° traverse irrespective of the ship's trajectory, being only restrained by the obvious barriers of hull geometry.

In thirty seconds after both fleets opened fire, their slugs flew past each other, flashes of light in the sky dome, but long before that, the gamma lasers on the Imperial ships had already came to life.

Invisible streams of radiation illuminated the shields of the opposing fleet, flashing the impacted sections in bright white, as the field absorbed the deadly waves; bit by bit the strength of the shields was drained away, as the fundamental forces of nature were bent to inflict harm.

An idea flashed in Erik's mind: " _All cruisers, designate all anti-ship laser fire on a single target designated by my ship_ ,"

" _Aye, aye, Admiral!_ "

At his command, all gamma laser mounts swung and focused themselves at a single salarian ship, instead of each ship shooting at an individual target; they fired in a single salvo, dealing collectively ten kilotons of equivalent energy at an enemy cruiser.

" _Keep this pattern of fire and as the battle progresses pick individual targets apart_."

The fleets continued to trade shots, pitting their maneuverability, systems, and engineering, and crew against each other.

Arrows of metal slammed against invisible walls, turning into superheated hypervelocity dust, spiraling into the void as if expanding flower petals.

At such distance, long by cruiser-cruiser engagements, shots rarely landed, and when they did, they splashed against the shields of both sides; not mentioning the ones that simply missed, either due to exit deviation when they left their cannons or a calculation error.

And the battle continued, with the ships closer and closer to each other with each passing second.

" _Seven minutes to merge_." One officer reported on the CIC, to Erik's left.

"Valencia _and_ Stockholm, _full torpedo salvo, overwhelming allocation of munitions, focus on cruisers_."

His order was relayed to the sister capital, and in unison, hundreds of missiles took to the void, emerging out of their cold propellant gas and igniting their metallic-hydrogen engines, far more efficient and powerful than a standard fusion torch.

In total, over a thousand Sunburns were launched at the defending constellation.

" _Five cruisers targeted, roughly 200 torpedoes each, just as needed for their estimated shield strength, impact in three minutes and forty seconds..._ "

Erik opened a smile in satisfaction and anticipation inside his helmet as his plan was replayed once again in his mind.

Time went on, and the differences in design made themselves present.

As the ships closed on each other, shots became harder to evade, becoming more accurate and arriving increasingly faster to their targets; ships were forced to perform more and more maneuvers either diagonally, laterally, or utilizing their main thrusters to move out of danger.

By doing so, their bows left their original alignment, moving away from the enemy until they could be repositioned, a common concern for the salarians but something that was of no consequence to the human commanders.

The salarian waves of fire became erratic and inconsistent as the volume of human fire maintained itself constant, despite both fleets being forced to perform the same evasive maneuvers.

In those early battles, between different industrial bases, between different peoples and doctrines, even technologies, new tactics would be devised for the many years to come, new understandings of space-to-space combat given the newest introductions, not only of players but also of tools and variables.

But such lessons would be learned at a high price.

With over two thousand railcannon turrets trained on their ships, weaker than the spinal accelerators of the three Council races, but with relentless and constant firing cadences, the salarians at Janis learned their own at that day.

Round after round hammered at their electromagnetic shields, depleting them of terajoules of energy with each impact, as the salarian commanders were faced with the deadly choice: dodge enemy shots entirely, but be unable to lay their guns on them, or return fire and be bathed in hypervelocity tungsten.

Ten minutes had elapsed since the human escorts and the salarian fleet began to burn in meeting trajectories, at this point the torpedoes launched by the carriers were close to begin being engaged by the UV point-defense on the salarian ships.

" _Launched torpedoes will impact in two minutes and forty seconds…"_

" _Escorts report heat endurance averaging at 32%_."

" _Seven enemy frigates and two-now three, cruisers disabled or destroyed!"_ A technician replied with excitement as he watched the action unfold on his screen. " _Escort squadrons are each focusing on individual targets with railcannons as well as with gamma lasers_ ; _the enemy can't return fire effectively!"_

Erik heard the reports at the same time as he watched enemy contacts be crossed by a holographic 'X' and slowly disappear from the battle display in front of him.

He pondered for a few more seconds, and spoke: " _All detached squadrons are to launch a full torpedo salvo as soon as the first torpedo wave is engaged by enemy point defense, overwhelming allocation of ammunitions_."

" _Aye, aye!_ "

The seconds elapsed, and Erik watched calmly on the holographic display the mass of torpedoes overtake his escort detachment, and continue to meet the enemy fleet, and soon after, be engaged by the salarian point defense GARDIANs.

The vast expanse of tens of thousands of kilometers became populated not only by the continuous hail of kinetic fire, but now also by invisible UV and Gamma radiation, and thousands of Sunburn torpedoes.

Soon to be added to the fray were now a gargantuan mass of new missiles launched by the cruisers and frigates; in ripple waves, hundreds took to the void, acquiring their targets from the systems aboard their parent craft, and then locking on themselves with their own tadar panels while their engines came to life.

Thousands of new stars came to life on the digital viewports of the escort vessels of the 548th, and the on the systems of the salarian fleet as well, as electro-optical sensors picked the bright flashes of thermal radiation that the torpedoes thrusters produced, even though the stealth material and design of the projectiles gave the radars and ladars on the ships a hard time getting a clear contact picture.

On the computers of the defenders, the contact list had jumped from the low hundreds into the low _thousands_ , and they watched as with every second the massive missile salvo closed on their own ships.

Frantically, UV beams began to cut down missiles, with the projectiles flashing as bright spots of light, before continuing through inertial movement as debris.

The seconds piled on, and the short time until the wave of missiles struck their target grew smaller, but stretched out in the perception of the individuals involved, as the constructs were represented as nothing more but an icon on a display.

Thousands of guided missiles sped through the cosmos, coordinating terminal maneuvers between themselves and their parent ships, designating targets and calculating variables.

" _Thirty seconds until impact!_ "

Beams of radiation kept firing on and on, and missile after missile was disabled or destroyed outright, but there were too many; too many kinetic artillery rounds to evade, too many torpedoes.

Unshielded ships were struck first, few missiles being enough to tear them apart, reducing them to dead carcasses of metal, or making them vanish in bright fireballs that died as soon as they were born.

The others, with their shields already battered by the slug throwing match with the 548th escorts, were stuck multiple and successive times, with the remaining energy levels on their shields plummeting until being depleted, and then destroyed.

In total, the losses were catastrophic.

The lesson learned was hard: lured into a close-range battle by the advantage of numerical superiority in middle-weight combatants, and faced with the harsh decision to leave their planet to be invaded, they decided to rush in.

But the humans were practicing for that for a long time, and the insurrection by the Sesoln bore another bitter fruit, as the information relayed to the Empire proved essential in the simulations the fleets selected for Op. Steel Rain had participated on the Virtual Combat Arenas.

They knew their weaknesses and strengths relative to those of their enemies weeks and even months before the first shot was fired, they studied the maneuvers, the commanders, the theory and practice.

But now, the results were not virtual ships being torn apart, but rather beings of living flesh losing their lives to circumstance.

Out of the 120 salarian cruisers, only five would be able to retreat in FTL, being accompanied by a single frigate.

Yet, despite being subconsciously or consciously aware of the massive loss of life, the crews of the multitude of Imperial ships, being humans as they were, could not help but cheer on their own individual ways, facing deliverance from their own deaths, coupled with the nectar of victory, mixed with the primal rush of combat.

" _Multiple targets destroyed, the enemy has suffered catastrophic losses, comrade Admiral!_ " Even as some of his colleagues slammed their fists against the hard parts of their displays in exaltation and moved by emotion, or exclaimed expletives, one officer reported through.

Erik typed a few commands, and the graphic display before him panned out of their immediate battlespace to display the nearby star vicinity, and the new icons came to life: the stationary ships carrying the Army battlegroups, systems and other stellar formations, and the quickly escaping salarian ships.

" _Log the time of battle, report the results and data back to HQ, and comm the landing ships that they may move further inside the system_." Erik stood up from his seat, unstrapping himself from the acceleration belts, moving past the holographic images in the dark CIC. " _All marine detachments are to prepare for deployment, arm and fuel all aircraft_."

* * *

The ships ignored the floating escape pods that still drifted in the wake of battle, and assumed multiple orbits with simple enough burns, such pods returning to their planet with their own deorbiting burns, who would many hours later streak down the atmosphere on Janis.

Spreading around the planet in two groups opposite of each other, covering both hemispheres of the globe; the _Valencia_ and the _Stockholm_ assumed high orbits, ranging above their original jump positions, roughly a light second of distance of the surface.

Mere minutes after the battle ended and the message was sent, the four Jörmungandr-class planetary assault crafts emerged out of the Dirac Sea, the relatively small distance being enough to put them out of harm, but enough to allow near immediate arrival.

The satellites took no more than a couple of hours of simple gravitic maneuvers and 'burns' to achieve their desired orbits; some in closer polar trajectories, scanning a different longitude with every pass, some remained in complimentary geostationary orbits.

Groundside defensive sites watched as the invading force did as expected and stayed out of their practical kinematic ranges, with the pervasive eyes in the sky recording and analyzing every radio or microwave transmission they could pick up.

Wave-particles swept through the different latitudes and longitudes faster than light, as the humans built their own topographic image of the planet; matching and overlaying geographical points and features with all intelligence supplied by the Sesoln own STG branch.

In the tension of their inertia, everything changed at once.

The muzzles of the cannons aboard the _Valencia_ moved to a specific position, and opened fire, targeting the planetary capital: a single salvo of a handful of 20kg projectiles carrying enough kinetic energy to kill millions upon their impact.

As soon as those shots were detected by the salarian defenders, dozens of orbital defense cannons emerged in the vicinity of the city, spread in clusters many kilometers off the metropolis itself, rushing to deflect the incoming shots.

Massive constructs measuring the hundreds of meters rose from their camouflaged positions, calculating trajectories and opening fire multiple times as the shots approached their destination.

Akin to shooting bullets with bullets, the fairly static trajectories of the incoming slugs was quickly analyzed by the dozens of computers across multiple sites, and then engaged with their own rounds, utilizing their own proximity to the final target to ease their interception.

Flashes of light across the firmament met each other, with many missing their target, but with a single one being enough, splashing against the opposing rounds, transforming both slugs into microscopic dust and debris, spiraling out of their original paths.

" _And so, they reveal their positions_." Erik spoke to the men inside the bridge, as they watched their shots be deflected one by one by the hail of defensive fire. " _Allocate a single slug to every population center above one million individuals; force them to reveal their hand_."

And so it was done, each and every major population center was marked to destruction, and delivered from it as the ground defenses did their job, fully realizing the intent of the invaders, but forced to react given the price of refusing to do so.

And soon, the human fleet had their locations, along with the military bases that were public knowledge, and those more furtive ones scanned by the spy satellites.

Erik watched with satisfaction as holographic image of the planet, displayed high on the CIC now was filled with the icons of enemy sites, and he slowly made his way back to his seat, eyeing every technician over their shoulders.

He settled back on his usual position, and removed his helmet, typing a command on his system, returning light to the CIC. "All brigades are to assault their objectives immediately, all starfighter and drone squadrons are to strike their designated targets; I want air supremacy as soon as possible, lest the Army mud-crawlers say the Navy didn't do its job!"

* * *

Black figures shot through the atmosphere in a speed vastly different from a normal re-entry, with air contrails behind them instead of the usual sheets of plasma, almost stalling as they approached the ground more and more.

The Hammerheads had long departed their carriers, using their artificial gravity generators to establish approach vectors without heat emission, taking far longer than if they simply shot through space with the metallic-hydrogen engines.

" _Alright listen up!_ " First Sergeant Viktor Kirin bellowed as their aircraft shook from high altitude turbulence. " _We have twelve hours to fuck them up before the tankies land, I want strength, I want bravery, I want you to do your fucking duty you understand that?"_

 _"Yes, Sergeant!"_ Private Wilhelm Seiler shouted in unison on their internal channel, holding tight to his M74, placed vertically between his legs.

The configuration inside the MHA-44 was always the same when the passengers were a INMC squad; the NCO and the senior Corporal sat opposite to each other near the main ramp, the other marines followed on the remaining seats, with the AT specialist and his assistant sat on the position closest to where machinery separated the two pilots from their passengers, beside to the two lateral doors, and perpendicular to the rest of the squad.

Their uniform was still black, as they still stood inside the gunship, but it would soon change once they hit the ground; the passenger and cargo compartment was completely dark save for the red light above the back ramp.

The helmets issued by the Army and Marine Corps differed from the ones used by ISF operatives, not being the faceless and non-reflective glass items as used by the elite soldiers.

Instead, it was closed around the mouth and neck, with this band being made of ballistic material, with a tinted visor running across the eyes, also being equipped with the usual NBC filters and communications suite, together with the IFF tag on the back that emitted a friendly signal to any nearby heartbeat sensor.

While not being made to be used in vacuum, lacking the thrusters and oxygen tank, the armor in itself was capable of being sealed by pressing simple buttons on the wrists and ankles, effectively sealing the fatigues against the external atmosphere.

Beyond the armor on the torso, the thighs and shins were protected against shrapnel by attached ballistic pads, together with knee pads, on their upper body they also had the usual forearm guards, but without shoulder pads or similar.

Their chest armor wasn't simply a ballistic plaque, but rather a full vest, with pouches and straps for equipment; ammo batteries, general survival apparatus such as the medi-gel canister, along with their disk-shaped fragmentation grenades and cylindrical smoke ones.

The aircraft shook again.

In silence he wondered what his parents were doing, thousands of lightyears away, he wondered what his companions were thinking, if they were praying, if they thought of promised ones back in their homes.

He wondered if Angelo had been deployed as well.

" _Two minutes to drop_ ," the voice of one of the pilots sounded inside their helmets. " _We'll be on the surroundings scouting for vehicle columns, but if you need fire support we can give you a hand_."

" _Roger that,_ " their Sergeant answered. " _Just like in the Arena boys, easy and clean_."

Wilhelm cast a glance across the compartment to the sergeant, eyeing the M280 mounted on a rail under his M74, with the man carrying the 30mm grenades in a belt on his chest.

" _No fuckups."_ Corporal Cristiano Braga, his fireteam's leader, replied, sitting directly beside Wilhelm. " _We've got this._ "

Wilhelm released a long sigh, closing his eyes while he still could, before the battle began.

" _Drop in one minute, stand by_ ," the pilot spoke again.

" _This is it, everyone up_." The Sergeant ordered, and the men obeyed, unstrapping their acceleration belts and extending their arms as they stood up, holding on to support rails on top of the cargo hold.

The soldiers strapped their firearms close and tight to their bodies, fastening them with the slings across their chests. Wilhelm faced the back of another soldier, but he eyed the red light above the ramp.

Seconds tickled by, and soon the time arrived: " _Jump in five…four…three…two…one, go!_ "

The light turned green, and the back door lowered, turning into a ramp. Light flooded their compartment, and Wilhelm could see glimpses of white clouds and a blue sky.

The Sergeant and the senior Corporal jumped first, shortly followed by the two men in front of him, freeing his view, but he hardly had time to gaze, as it was now his turn to jump.

He did it in a practiced movement, and the world turned upside down.

He dove many meters per second, being hit by the wind rushing across his body and the heat of sunlight instantly, he aligned himself to face the ground, and saw the figures of the two marines that jumped before him below, with their limbs spread as they fell similar to himself.

His visor had immediately tinted black to counter the sunlight, and he now could take in the planet in full.

Scores of Hammerheads flew above, dropping their own soldiers straight from their bellies, black spots falling across the blue sky; below them, green was present in many shades, and the landscape formed before his eyes.

Hills, plains, and mountains in a distance he could only assume to be dozens of kilometers away, and their assumed target: in the distance, a complex of white and gray structures.

Wilhelm dared to look back, and his squad followed right behind him, many meters higher than him.

" _All Misfit callsigns, this is Misfit Actual, our objective is simple, ahead of us is a fusion power plant, we are tasked with its capture and/or destruction_." A small icon on Wilhelm's visor indicated that the Lieutenant spoke on the platoon channel. " _It serves over five hundred million individuals; the entire battalion will assault it_."

" _Spy sat intelligence indicates that it is lightly defended, but command expects more reinforcements in the following hours until the Army hits ground; that means we're holding it until the tanks link up._ " They reached terminal, and his superior continued the mid-jump briefing to the file and rank. " _I expect the very best of all of you today, marines! Semper Fi!_ "

Sgt. Kirin's voice sounded on their own squad channel soon after. " _You heard him, open chutes at 500_."

The altimeter on his suit indicated on his helmet's visor his altitude relative to the sea level, closing fast to zero.

As he had done many times before, as soon as the number hit 500, he pulled a small string on his left shoulder, releasing the reusable parachute.

Wilhelm could see the men below him doing the same, and he felt the small tug as the first stage of the parachute deployed, then the hard jolt as the second one did, with his legs falling to stand vertically as his arms reached for the control handles above his head.

He followed the path made by the Sergeant across the air, and he could easily see where it led: a large clearing by a riverbank, leading into light woods.

As he descended, the horizon got closer and closer, and he soon could not see the mountain range he saw while still high in the air, the landscape gained more definition, and now features that were dots became large figures.

Soon after, he landed on the ground, bleeding speed together with his squad in tight turns and circles, enabling them to land running instead of as dead weight.

Wilhelm still felt the impact on his legs as he matched the speed across the grass, until coming to a halt near Kirin, their parachutes were already retracting back into their compartments on the marines' upper backs.

They formed a circle while kneeling, eyeing multiple directions, rifles already in hand.

Wilhelm swiveled his sights beyond the river, beyond the flowing water and into the other margin, leading into a rocky ridge; something caught his eye to the left, and he quickly turned, only to find it was nothing but more descending men.

The fellow marines touched down, and soon did the same procedures, kneeling in a circle with their backs to each other.

Kirin left their circle, being joined by two other men, and Wilhelm could see another twenty men had landed on the LZ.

Wilhelm soon eyed his Sergeant coming back to them.

" _Alright, the orders are simple, advance, engage and eliminate any enemy, and assault the eastern wall_ , _along with the battalion._ " Kirin spoke once he rejoined the squad, doing a hand sign ordering them to stand up. " _Misfit 2 will remain in rear platoon reserve; we, 3 and 1 will advance, let's get moving!_ "

" _All Misfit callsigns advance_."

They moved in unison, away from the river and into the light woodlands, the sun bearing on their heads.

Wilhelm now saw that their armor soon adopted a proper woodland camouflage pattern, mixing itself with the grass, trees and terrain.

He caught up to his fireteam, falling into place just behind Private Jackson.

Each squad moved as a single wedge, spaced by no more than fifty meters from each other, marching into the woods.

Wilhelm looked up to the sky, before entering the foliage, black dots flew through the air like poisonous insects; their stings were missiles and railcannons.

* * *

Wilhelm hit the ground, taking cover behind a rock, the sounds of laser cracking across the air and the whizzing and buzzing of projectiles filling the receivers on his helmet and being reproduced inside his ears.

Jackson reached there seconds earlier, and already took cover firing with his own rifle.

" _Enemies changing positions through their barricades_."

Wilhelm stood up to kneel, and took aim in trained motion; despite being their first combat drop, the Arenas ensured that their minds became accustomed to fire and combat.

His red-dot sight fell on a running figure, and he pressed the trigger.

As soon as the mechanism of his rifle was activated, the pulse train already hit the salarian guard; dozens of pulsed near-infrared beams hit the alien's body spaced microseconds apart.

Firing in the burst-fire setting, his M74 shot 3 beams consisting of over a hundred pulses, all hitting and digging deeper and deeper on the alien, as each singular pulse vaporized a layer of armor, cloth, or skin, leaving time for the newly-made plasma and water vapor to be ejected out of the path of the next pulse by their own kinetic energy.

With a muzzle velocity effectively at the speed of light, it was impossible to miss if your aim was true.

The being fell instantly to Wilhelm's perception, and he made back into cover behind the rock just as fast, he saw Corporal Braga together with the rest of the fireteam on another rock.

Jaarsveld was further behind with the other fireteam, covering himself on a fallen tree, his M80 on the ground, utilizing the bipod for maximum ergonomic stability while firing the weapon, as laser was recoilless.

The sounds of battle mixed, from the explosions of the 30mm grenades being lobbed by the grenadiers on every squad, to the sporadic repeated 'snaps!' and booms of railcannons mounted Hammerheads only God knew how many kilometers away, all sharing space with the blaring of klaxons through the power plant.

In front of them, two hundred or so meters of open ground ended on a metallic fence covered at the top with barbed wire, there was a single entrance that led to paved road going further into the woods that Wilhelm did not see when up in the sky.

" _Suppressive fire at left tower, three…two…one!_ "

He exposed himself together with his squad, opening fire on the watchtower, seeing dark figures hiding behind the prefab wall, laser cracking around the walls inside the tower and outside as the soldiers shot calculated bursts in order to pin the enemy, metal melting in small thin holes that let off small pieces of hot debris.

' _Thump!_ ' Wilhelm heard to his side, but he focused on firing on the general direction of the watchtower.

Pvt. Campos had fallen beside his own rock together with his auxiliary rifleman, Pvt. McMillan.

McMillan rose to peek beyond the rock and began to fire on the tower as well, while Miguel aimed with his own armament.

Wilhelm heard the distinct hiss as if a dozen snakes were beside them, then a swoosh of air.

Wilhelm watched the tower erupted in fire and smoke, with sparks of metal, and the odd body piece flying in all directions.

The second tower was gone shortly after, probably being hit by an ATGM as well, and the salarians on the entrance began to fall back, abandoning the concrete barricades they utilized as cover, at times being shot in the back or where they stood.

" _All callsigns Misfit advance to the entrance!_ " The lieutenant spoke again on their net. " _Launch smoke cover!_ "

The squad moved out of their covers, be them large rocks or tree trunks, and began to advance together with the rest of the platoon, converging on the single entrance.

Smoke grenades launched by the grenadiers on the multiple squads arced through the field, falling down and spreading in thick streams and clouds, being carried laterally by the breeze, forming a wall of gas.

Wilhelm jogged together with his comrades, his fireteam reforming closer to the Sergeant, while being joined by the other squads. His blood pumped, and he could hear his own breath inside his helmet, as the blades of grass were bent and crushed with his every step.

Soon they hit the entrance, emerging out of thick white smoke, with squad and fireteam leaders paying special attention to their heartbeat sensors, taking up the concrete barriers as cover, vacant of their salarian guards.

Bodies and equipment were laid on the ground beside the small craters caused by laser fire, nothing more than molten concrete spots of similar size to holes left by kinetic slugs, green blood pooled around the bodies and was splashed on the barriers themselves.

Wilhelm kept his head on a swivel, looking for enemies in front of him and to the sides, paying attention to the position of his own squad and fireteam. Cpl. Braga was beside him, grass sticking on his kneepads and boots.

Hundreds of meters in front of them, three massive exhausts spewed gas, venting the heat from the underground reactor, buildings and structures were sprawled about around them, connected by a series of asphalt roads.

" _Alright, slow advance, they probably took refuge inside the buildings. We'll have reinforcements soon_." The lieutenant spoke through their net, with Wilhelm looking back and seeing the man many meters behind his squad, taking cover in the same roadblocks. " _3 and 4, clear the buildings on our right, 1 and 2 will clear the right. Spare civvies, eliminate anyone with a gun_."

* * *

" _Clear!_ " He heard on the net, as the other fireteam made their way through the lower floor.

Wilhelm climbed a flight of stairs together with Pvt. Jackson, both covering each other's advance, checking for hostiles above them.

The images passed through Wilhelm's mind eye as his squad climbed; jumping from a stealth gunship kilometers up in the sky, hitting the ground and marching through foreign woods, so different from the ones he used to roam back on Hyperia.

The images of the falling salarian, green mist around his body…the grain-sized projectiles ricocheting on the ground around him.

Slow and steady they climbed with the rest of their own fireteam behind them.

Jackson came up to the next position, and Wilhelm abandoned his overwatch as soon his comrade established his own, climbing the steps with caution.

As he passed the other marine, an emergency door suddenly swung open to his right, leading to one of the floors.

Wilhelm's reflexes and training kicked in, and he crouched while turning to the direction of the startling motion, firing an automatic burst from his laser rifle.

The alien being let out a pained cry, mixing with the ' _cracks_ ' of expanding hot air reverberating through the staircase.

Another alien behind him let out a wail in a foreign language, and attempted to raise his arms. The human marine only reacted, not registering the nature of the motion, firing another burst at the salarian.

" _Contact!_ " Jackson exclaimed rushing to Wilhelm's side, and looking at the two bodies through the sights of his weapon; they were unarmed. " _Fuck… clear! They're civvies_ …"

" _The hell…_ " Cpl. Braga exclaimed, rushing up the stairs to look at the scene.

" _Sonovabitch showed up from nowhere, I just…reacted…I…fuck!_ " Wilhelm attempted to explain, dismay and alertness mixing on his voice, resting one hand the forehead section of his helmet. " _I shot the other...I don't know why I shot him…I just reacted."_

" _Forget it, collateral damage,"_ his superior dismissed. _"We've got to reach the rooftop_."

Wilhelm spared a last glance at the beings he had just killed, and his feelings were conflicting with each other, but ultimately, his training kicked in and he rejoined the squad.

They rose and rose, until finally reaching the roof entrance: a flat floor beyond the stairs ending in the door proper, grey concrete marred by the slight signs of disrepair and humidity.

Corporal Braga wasted no time in kicking the metallic door open, nearly tearing it out of the hinges, and emerging back on sunlight, followed by the rest of the squad.

" _Jackson, watch the stairs_." He ordered, kneeling with the rest of the squad on the tall rooftop, examining the facility from a vantage point. " _Everybody lower than snake shit, let's pick targets._ "

The men fell prone together with the corporal, crawling across the flat concrete to the edge of the roof, supporting their weapons on a small protruding concrete step at the edge of the building.

Pvt. Campos set up his Spear launcher, setting his M74 aside and reloading one missile from the ones McMillan carried on his back.

The FGM-120 Compact Length Missile, christened as ' _Spear'_ , resembled a crossbreed between a US-made Javelin and Soviet RPG-7.

It employed the technological advances in IR tracking, maneuverability, explosives, and motion power of the following centuries, but retained the same mission: destroy vehicles, either airborne fast-movers or armored ground ones, and fortifications.

Shorter than a meter, it enabled soldiers to easily carry them, be them airborne or mechanized infantry, only possible due to the condensed and highly energetic of the C-8 explosive compound, itself a mix of orillium and other components, five times more potent than TNT itself.

But the small size didn't stop it from being lethal, as it carried 3kg of explosive in two warheads, one designed for high-explosive fragmentation, and the other a shaped charge for penetrating armor.

The images of the dead salarians kept flashing occasionally on Wilhelm's mind, the dead faces of the aliens and their strange green blood remained fresh on his psyche.

" _There!_ " Braga exclaimed on their fireteam net, pointing at a point in the facility as he lay beside the AT grenadier and his assistant. " _An MG team, six hundred meters south east, on the fourth floor, see the muzzle flash?_ "

" _Roger,_ " Campos replied.

It was a six story building, relatively taller than their structure, with the muzzle flashes of a machine gun flaring in one window at the fourth floor.

" _Direct attack, I'll lase it_ ," Braga did not need to give instructions, but he did out of habit; the AT soldier knew which flight mode to select to best attack the target, and could either lase the target initially himself, or rely on his assistant rifleman.

The corporal changed his weapon's power setting, changing from the deadly high-powered pulses to the softer and constant beam configuration, instantly converting his weapon from a rifle into a laser designator.

The lenses adjusted, as if the weapon was a digital camera, and soon an invisible dot was suddenly projected on the wall nearby the window, invisible to the human eye, but a beacon to the seekers of both the missile and the launcher.

The launcher hissed as it sucked and compressed air inside a compartment behind the missile tube proper, and then the air was released, pushing the missile many meters in front of the team into the air.

The missile ignited its engine, burning metallic-hydrogen at incredibly high temperatures, seeking that small dot with near malicious intent.

It quickly dashed across the facility and slammed itself on the wall, erupting in dust, smoke, and the occasional plume of fire, debris and concrete rocks being expelled in all directions.

The machine gun fell silent, and Wilhelm wondered how many more had they already killed.

But then, alien figures caught his attention across the street, and Wilhelm quickly settled back into work, aligning the sights of his weapon.

His mind reverted to the task, abandoning any doubt or secondary thoughts, and he pressed the trigger as soon as the lithe torso of another alien came into his sights.

* * *

The facility fell as fast they had jumped from their gunships, an entire battalion of marines against simple guards, part-timers and militiamen, not fit to fight a true war.

The underground control center surrendered as soon as they lost contact with the upper elements, either as they surrendered or were overrun; and soon the battalion commander, Lt. Colonel Gergely, set it up as his personal command post.

Not necessarily out of the centrality and protection given by the meters of rock and soil above, but by the value of the control systems and the intelligence they could and probably would provide.

The secluded figures of the ONI platoon attached to them quickly set up court there as well, prodding computers and terminals, and speaking amongst themselves.

The gunships whirled and settled down like birds of prey feasting upon the carcass of a fallen animal, the air reeked of smoke and the wind began to pick up.

Wilhelm stood by a sidewalk on the facility, looking up to the sky, gray bugs made of metal passed by, he had removed his helmet after the combat had died down and POWs confined to a single building.

Even as they captured the building, the battalion already set up defensive positions on the spots previously occupied by the aliens.

Wilhelm's short blond hair was glued to his head, and his blue eyes scanned the darkening sky, his weapon hung casually by its sling near his chest.

"It will rain," Wilhelm heard behind him, and turned to meet his squad mate.

Jackson walked up to him, with his helmet removed as well, secured below his right arm and with a metallic can on his other hand, his M74 was slung on his back. "Here, we've huh… _liberated_ …some food in the building."

Jackson was slightly taller than Wilhelm, and he had dirt blond hair instead of Wilhelm's platinum one, and always carried an easy smile; having spent time inside the confines of asphalt and concrete, their armor and equipment assumed a urban camouflage pattern, a mixture of shades of grey.

He threw the can, and Wilhelm caught it midair. "Dried canned meat, they say their food is cool for us to eat."

The foreign food was cold and salted, but having eaten nothing but super nutritious paste ever since awakening from cryosleep, he wasted no time drawing his Swiss knife from one pocket, then quickly opening the can and digging on its contents with his bare fingers, stuffing one of his combat gloves in another pocket.

"So, what's up?" He spoke, mouth stuffed with food.

"The pilots are saying they have destroyed an entire brigade worth of vehicles out there, quick reaction force." Jackson commented, pointing up with a gloved finger. "Hear the whine?"

Wilhelm looked around, as if noticing the landscape and the sky for the first time. "No, I actually don't."

Jackson smiled. "They're all in UFO; the aliens don't have tadar, only normal radar and thermal, so they're practically invisible unless you're _really_ close."

" _It's slaughter_ ," the young man continued. "They hide behind some geographical feature, peak up and scan with either their tadars of IR cameras, launch the fire-and-forget missiles and then hide again, and then _boom_ , either the missiles guide themselves or a drone does terminal guidance."

Wilhelm continued to devour the canned food, eyeing the Hammerhead gunships that whirled by once more. "How much time will we hold out here? Until linkup, I mean."

"Sergeant says no more than two days." As Jackson answered, thunder suddenly boomed across the facility reaching the soldiers, warning them of the coming weather.

The clouds seemed to darken by the minute, closing the patches of blue that still remained on the sky.

"Yeah…it will rain."

Wilhelm looked to the sky once again, before he and his squad mate returned to join their comrades and superiors; the image of the dead salarian civilians flashed across his mind once again, their blood pooling more and more.

His chest constricted, and he wondered what his father would think of him now.

* * *

The sky was nothing but a black velvet tapestry decorated by glittering tiny lamps, billions of kilometers away, and below, the world expanded in colors and shapes, forming geographic accidents ranging from river valleys to mountain ranges.

Within the same planet, but on different hemispheres, constructs of metal and silicon dashed across the air, propelled by the fundamental forces of the world, forgoing their powerful engines.

" _IRST scan remains clear, approaching vector is clear._ "

Several single-seater attack aircraft moved in formation in the dark, with their navigation lights turned off.

Leonid looked to his left, and in the green-tinted night vision setting of his helmet-mounted display, the angular and sleek shape of his fellow bomber took form inside the overlaid projection of a blue diamond, with the diminutive shape of his fellow pilot in the cockpit; the systems analyzed and interpreted IFF information, displaying the digital identification of the friendly aircraft even as it fed the night-vision sights into his helmet.

Even while using their gravity generators to move, the aerodynamic construction and weight still allowed the aircraft to fly at supersonic speeds; agile birds carrying powerful claws.

" _Seven hundred klicks to target…satellite reports good LOS for BDA_."

Leonid turned away from the outside world, focusing on his instrumentation again; all munitions responded positively to his system as well.

He pressed a couple of buttons, and prepared his hand on the joystick.

" _Fire_ ," his flight leader ordered.

Leonid pressed a button on his joystick, and outside his aircraft the internal weapons' bay opened, quickly releasing the objects to fall through the air.

The guided munitions soon ignited their thrusters, flaring to life and rising through the air as they sped past their parent craft, intensely bright blowtorches to Leonid's eyes.

In a few seconds after their launch, the smart bombs reached hypersonic speeds, and then dove for the ground, assuming a ground-skimming flight path, and after some time they were out of visual range, being tracked by the pilots through their instruments.

Not two minutes later, they were slamming against their targets, releasing fire and death on systems and beings alike, under the watchful glare of the digital eyes in the sky.

The planes had long regressed out the 'immediate' area, but they were a single flight out of hundreds of other strike sorties.

The skies of Janis were populated by ghosts, shadows that struck out of the grasp of both radars and GARDIAN emplacements, whose missiles and bombs destroyed both living beings and sterile metal.

Drones and ground radars tried to work in tandem to hold back the invading enemy craft.

And Leonid and his wingman returned to their Strike Carrier, taking care to remain using their gravity generators and keep communications to a minimum, and when done so, utilizing peer-to-peer tachyon beams.

Leonid couldn't help but to let his mind wander for a second, flying as his aircraft did over the skies, imagining the impact of his guided munitions, the Starflares who had escorted them, now eliminating enemy aircraft, striking from darkness and hundreds of kilometers away.

Rising further and further, escaping atmosphere, and then finally, deep in space, igniting their powerful metallic-hydrogen thrusters.

He looked back to the planet behind him; dark continents lit by their cities and settlements, and he was then overcome with deep emotion.

He was a cog in a large machine whose sole task was the complete destruction of the Empire's enemies, whoever they may be; from the beginnings of aviation, to his forefathers who fought in the Revolution, to those who fought in WW3, and then in the Great War, he was among a hall of heroes, even if his own name may slip through the collective memory.

In the vast dark expanse, the thought of belonging to something greater than himself brought warm comfort, and the subconscious awareness that he had with all certainty killed another living being slipped to the recesses of his mind.

* * *

Klaxons cried through the night, and Sals was already up in running for his station as soon as they had begun. He and his other companions of the firefighting brigade quickly put on their suits and mounted their vehicles, awaiting the calls for damage control by the base command.

It was the first thing to be struck by the bombs.

Sals at first heard nothing, save for the alarms and the occasional insect, but then his auditory organs were assaulted by a loud explosion, then the roar of rockets or jet engines, retroactively, and he soon understood that the enemy was using supersonic munitions, else he would have heard them approaching.

The vehicles left their garage quickly, as the command structure adapted by the sudden decapitation, and his particular section was directed to the hardened shelters housing the drones in widespread use by the salarian military all across the Union.

He peeked out of the vehicle by one of the windows, and he saw that the fires were beginning to pick up across their base, and in the distance, shining through black clouds; the flashes of more bomb impacts could be seen.

They arrived by a cluster of shelters, and some specialized trucks began to spray chemical foam above them to preemptively combat any fire.

The vehicles could spray water themselves through cannons on their top, but also carried more firefighters to help on the efforts.

Sals was now outside, at a relatively safe distance from the shelters, with a hose on his hands, pulled out from one of the specialized structures on the tarmac; the military base had its own water circuit pipelines, with pumps and hydrants spread to help fight any fire wherever it may begin.

The alarms continued to sound across the base, reaching every building and facility, and Sals did the mistake of looking to the western horizon.

Points of bright light raced across the sky, and then shot up impossibly fast to his conception, arcing up and gaining altitude; some exploding in spheres of fire as the GARDIANs in the base did their job.

The missiles had done a ballistic maneuver, to increase their impact angle on the structures, coming down on them with the aid of gravity and on a near vertical angle.

Shooting stars fell down from the sky on the shelters, and Sals felt the air being pushed out of his chest as the shockwaves hit him, hundreds of kilograms worth of high explosives detonating around, with his vision being occupied by the large flash of the fireball.

A piece of shrapnel flew at hypervelocity at an unfortunate trajectory, hitting Sals straight in the chest.

He died on the spot.

* * *

 _Citadel Tower, Irissa's office._

" _In other news, ships identified as belonging to the Imperial Navy have engaged with Vaerdall-aligned fleets in orbit of Janis earlier today, in another development of the ongoing Salarian Civil War_." Irissa watched as the asari newswoman reported on the screen opposite to her desk.

" _Our sources on the ground report that the human fleet dropped out of FTL and began combat almost immediately against the salarian defenders, overcoming them in under fifteen minutes of pitched space combat, we have no further details pertaining to the space battle and casualties or how they achieved such a quick resolution_."

" _Nyatiana Axaptos, our local correspondent has recorded a video giving her perspective of the situation,_ " The image shifted from the asari anchor to another asari, a maiden, in a living room, speaking to the camera.

" _Everything is convoluted and confused right now, what the government has transmitted us is that we need to stay home as much as possible, some individual clans have issued general civil defense alarms and have moved their populations into shelters, but some have not."_

She continued: " _One of my anonymous sources said that the situation is really bad, that there's no orbital defense, and that the humans somehow know the exact locations of the groundside sites. The human fleet is apparently blockading us; my source said they're in the low hundreds but no certainty, all in all, I will try and keep regular updates if they do not shutdown extranet access."_

Irissa turned down the volume of the news broadcast, and looked down to the couch to meet Tevos's face.

"Planetary assaults now," she said, sighing. "Two days in, and they're like a lightning, I expected this to be more drawn out."

"Do the peace talks, and _hope_ it doesn't escalate into all-out war between the turians and humans; if you can't get peace contain the conflict to the Union." Tevos replied, in between sips of tea. "And get in contact with Valeri, you must gauge what they are really planning to do, or we'll remain as spectators."

"What makes you think I haven't tried?" Irissa shot back. "He's in transit now, and Harper doesn't answer the quantum communicator we build for them on Terra, we'll have to speak to their diplomat and beg him to get me in touch with Constantine."

Tevos pursed her lips.

"It's largely out of our hands, Tevos, we started this, and now the humans will finish it." Irissa said, turning back to her haptic computer. "The good news, if you can call them that, is that those aren't _our_ planets they're invading."

* * *

 **A/N:** I wish you all a peaceful and prosperous 2019, and I _also_ wish some reviews as late Christmas and as birthday gifts to your friendly writer, me.


	22. Thunder Run

**A/N:** Hey, another chapter for you, I hope you all enjoy it.

This was reviewed and edited by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Sur'Kesh, Annos Basin._

Things were bad.

Desolas paced in his command center, watching his subordinates at their stations working, communicating, and producing military intelligence and data from the constant input they received.

But all the while, he thought about what course of action he should take, after the events that unfolded on real time, and those that were a day ago.

Three million soldiers were killed in a matter of minutes, along with four dreadnoughts, in a single engagement; the invasion of a politically important planet delayed.

Erlana had said to him it was merely a bump in the road to victory, but Desolas could understand the overall implications of the majority of factors at play at that fated battle.

Rays of green light, vanquishing capital ships faster than the blink of an eye; a weapon for which there was no defense.

Now, the humans were on the move, _again_. Planets reported atmospheric and orbital assaults, airmobile infantry with unconventional weaponry, and stealth aircraft armed with munitions employing advanced missile technology.

Even now he could see it clearly; already the Sesoln left their defensive stance, and began their own engagements, the Solus were holding so far, everything was put into a halt, a hesitation that enveloped his task force.

Not necessarily out of a tactical necessity, as in opposing forces in sufficient number stopping them, but rather in the operational field: shock, speed, focus.

And the same questions repeated themselves inside his mind: _How many ships have the humans deployed in addition to what was known? How many ground elements?_

"And from where?" He muttered to himself.

As far as intelligence told him, the Empire hadn't mobilized in substantial manner in their own territories, reducing their active fleets and troops ever since the situation stabilized after first contact.

And moreover, they had displayed no significant movement on Aralakh, simply guarding both ends of the relay pair that connected Citadel space to their territory, and neither did the network connections leading to the Union display any suspicious activity.

So where did their forces come from? Perhaps jumps through the mostly empty space between arms. But did they accumulate drive charge? If so, where did they discharge it?

Should he continue to follow the original plan as best as he could, or should he adapt to the new threat? Could the Vaerdall hold the human forces on their own? Would they have the tenacity to fight such an enemy?

He had many doubts, many variables to consider, and few concrete answers.

He returned back to his central position, sitting and picking up a flask of water that lay beside his command chair, drinking it to refresh himself.

' _Three days_ ,' he thought.

His chest was heavy with the weight his decisions carried.

Would the commitment of Hierarchy ships against the humans escalate things beyond the confines of the Vaerdall-Sesoln imaginary border? Would that be the first shot of many more?

He stood up again, and began to pace around once more.

' _I must take action_.' He thought, with his hopes and fears converging into a decision he would soon be forced to make.

Desolas looked to the haptic displays around him, to the young turian men and women who manned them.

A thread of sadness made its ways to his core, but the General quickly suppressed it, reverting to his stoic and commanding way of being; the lives of millions were on his hands.

* * *

 _Rannadril, Salarian Union._

Teso walked on hard concrete, following a line of turians, in their large majority pilots such as him given the early stage of the war, but with many expatriates who had been caught by the overreaching circumstance of war, and put into internment camps alongside the POWs.

But such differences could only be learned through conversation, as their orange uniforms were only differentiated by numbers and names.

Between him and freedom, there stood barbed wire, tall fences, automated machine guns pointing outward and inward, and the muzzles of the rifles of a few hundred guards spread throughout the perimeter.

Adding to that, their island was surrounded by hundreds of kilometers of ocean.

"What do you think it will be?" He asked the man in front of him, speaking over his shoulder; he was hungry, and the memory of his capture was still fresh.

"Krolus-flavored paste, it's all they serve." He replied. "I've been here since day one kid; and I'm just a fucking electrical engineer."

"I'm not a kid." Teso protested.

"Yes, you are." The older turian looked back, venom in his voice, as the line moved on. "A kid playing soldier, now _shut up_ , don't attract the guards' attention."

At the mental reminder of the MGs and sharpshooters, Teso did indeed shut up, and followed the line's pace.

The sun shone high on the cloudless blue sky, and Teso wondered if they were near the equator, thanking his family-spirits for sparing him of any POW camp that might be nearer the poles.

Soon enough, he reached the serving area, coming under the shadow of the extended metallic roof.

He grabbed one of the plastic trays along with a cup and a spoon, metal could be made into lethal weapons after all, and followed along on the balcony.

A few moments later, copper-colored paste along with solid pieces of something were dumped on his tray, with his cup being filled with clear water.

Grim-faced salarians served them from behind a metallic grid, leaving only the lower spaces open for the hands and trays to go through.

" _Troublemakers will be shot!_ " The electronic speakers around the camp's eating area flared to life constantly, reminding the prisoners of their predicament and the punishments rebellion carried. " _Eat your meal; return the tray in the second booth, then return to your assigned barrack! No lingering, no whispering!_ "

Teso moved in orderly fashion along the line once he received his meal, instinctively following the senior man to a free table.

The speakers blared again, promising death to those who disrupted their operations at the camp, or attempted to flee the island.

Teso did his best to ignore it, both the bland taste of the paste and the screaming by the speakers, and he managed in his own way.

' _At least this temperature is nice_.' He thought, picking away into his tray and separating the solid stuff from the paste, enjoying the sunlight reaching him. ' _I think father won't mind that I just shot down one drone…yeah, I did my part, fought until it wasn't possible, he will understand_.'

Teso looked up to the sky for a few seconds, and he wondered how the war was going: had they landed troops already? Had they managed to suppress groundside orbital defense sites? Was the fleet there still?

He had no way of knowing, he realized, and that somehow brought comfort to his heart, and lifted an imaginary weight off his back.

Feeling courageous, he plucked one of the solid things in his mouth, and upon chewing, he gleefully found them to not be so bad after all.

* * *

 _Citadel Tower._

The room was richly decorated in the man's opinion, fitting for peace talks, or for any kind of talk for that matter; tasteful furniture, a table of rich-looking wood, a large window displaying the station, with the presidium circling the tower, and the arms extending laterally.

So far, only he and the Republic's diplomat had arrived, and the woman was bent on trying to squeeze information out of him.

"You must understand, diplomat Nordlund, the situation can escalate exponentially," the woman spoke directly to him, from across the room, sitting at the opposite sofa. "The Republics are bent on collaborating with the Empire to the conflict's resolution, which is a compromise we have affirmed in first contact, and one which we reaffirm today."

Nassana Dantius wore a dress adhering to the dress-code asari were accustomed to follow on official functions through the Citadel: a simple dress, without elaborate designs or stamps, made of rich fabric, covering the majority of her body, except for the hands and her neck.

"I have no doubts on the veracity of your government's intentions, however, I cannot divulge battle plans and operational objectives; that's out of question." Filip Nordlund replied, choosing carefully his words. "We expect however, the resolution of the conflict as fast as possible."

"The issue is not the conflict as it stands right now, but rather the possibility of it spilling over _outside_ the Union." Nassana insisted. "We can aid you to prevent this, but we must get in closer contact, we must have a direct line of communications, else we'll remain disconnected and that will only invite chance for failure and disaster."

' _Ah, so there it is_ ,' he thought, opening a smirk.

"We reassure you, we _will_ open such a line when physically possible to do so, soon preferably," he said, smiling openly now. "Moreover, we have plans of opening a diplomatic mission here, and even if the results of this peace conference turn up unsatisfactory, I plan to utilize my stay here for the adjusting of details."

"This is _excellent_ , Mr. Nordlund." Nassana understood perfectly his message. "I will personally arrange for everything, including any issues concerning the stay of your cruiser on the Republics docks. Do you have any pretension as to where stay?"

"Initially, in my cruiser, along with my assistants and security detail, and before we spoke I planned on staying nearby the Aralakh relay, to reach the Citadel quickly, but a temporary mission here seems to be more fortuitous." The man replied, accepting a cup of water from one of the maids serving them. "Thank you; I imagine you would arrange a hotel or similar for my stay, but there is no need, honestly, the cruiser is perfectly fit."

"If you feel that way, we have no objections; I understand given the situation you would feel safer among your own." Nassana conceded.

"Not only that, but by staying in the ship, communication with my government would be more secure, speaking in terms of cybersecurity; less venues for signal interception."

"Very well-" Nassana was cut-off by a notification on her omnitool, and promptly rose from her seat. "It appears they are arriving, shall we?"

"Yeah, let's go." The man returned the cup to the aide beside his couch, moving to seat together with the asari diplomat on the table.

* * *

They had all sat at the table, the salarian and the turian with a few datapads, Nassana carried only her omnitool, and Filip merely joined his hands on the table.

"Diplomat Nordlund, as is known, this operation has undergone under the sovereign decision of the Council. The presence of your troops on Sesoln territory is entirely their own concern; however, given the situation, it poses a problem." The turian diplomat, Fadiana Frumsis, said. "Moreover, they have engaged turian forces unprovoked, causing the deaths of valiant soldiers in service of their people."

"A few issues, diplomat Frumsis," the human said. "The sovereign decisions of the Council do not compel the Empire in any way on its foreign policy. In our view however, the Council sprang conflict on our border, using questionable evidence as basis, shortly after first contact between us. We have seen reason to intervene to both secure our geopolitical interests as well as to safeguard the millions of salarians belonging to the Sesoln clan, until we can all review the data gathered by the Vaerdall clan and presented to the Hierarchy, and then the Council."

"The evidence is not up for discussion, diplomat Nordlund." The salarian diplomat, Vaerdall Nals, replied. "The fact stands that you attacked unilaterally the Vaerdall clan, its allies, and now invade their territories."

"This so-called evidence _must_ be up for scrutiny, it is central to the beginning and the resolution of this conflict," Filip replied. "We would gladly retreat if we could verify the evidence brought forward by the Union and Hierarchy and confirm the veracity of the actions the Sesoln have allegedly undertaken, which would in our view then justify the military operation by the Hierarchy and the Vaerdall."

"Of course, we would like then to receive guarantees by the Hierarchy and the Vaerdall that no genocide will be attempted against the Sesoln, Solus, and neither any affiliated clan to them." He finished.

' _What a flat out lie_ ,' Nassana had to contain her smirk.

Nassana spoke at that cue: "While I can understand how questioning the evidence casts a shadow of doubt on the Hierarchy and on the Union, the Republics also express their wish to evaluate the evidence, in order to lend more credence to these facts."

"The documents contain confidential matters pertaining to the Hierarchy and Union; as such we reserve their secrecy." Fadiana replied curtly.

"Mr. Nordlund," Nals began, leaving no room for questioning. "The Vaerdall clan demands the retreat of all forces present on their allies' space and territory, as well as any forces present on Vaerdall possessions as well."

Filip stood still for a few seconds, and then calmly replied: "I'm afraid we can't do that at the moment."

* * *

 _Kel'Shan, Sesoln Clan Capital Planet._

"Everything is _splendid_." Nizen spared a glance toward Cinis and the human agent as she spoke. "Beyond my expectations, really; although I was slightly wary of the secrecy of the actions you'd take, I thought I'd be betrayed."

Light seeped in through the large balcony to illuminate the usually gloomy throne room, bringing sustenance to the plants planted on extensively decorated large ceramic pots across the room.

"I imagine it gave that impression, yes." Kirill replied. "But the Emperor knows what's best."

The throne room was vacant of lesser dignitaries and adulating nobles for the time being, they had all scurried off to their respective fiefdoms once the Vaerdall opened fire, merely days ago.

"Does he?" Nizen inspected the leaves of a hanging plant on the balcony while speaking. "I wonder why I haven't met him; it would be a fortuitous experience for us both."

Kirill pondered about what to say, but then decided to be half-honest. "For the same reason we have kept our course of action in secrecy, I'm afraid."

Nizen smirked, joining her two trios of fingers in front of her chest, letting go of the plant and turning to face the human agent. "But in a way or another I have met him, through his son, and indeed it was enlightening."

Kirill smiled. "Prince Constantine is a role model of mankind, similar to His Majesty in many ways, but particular in his own manner."

"He is…what is the word you use for that again?"

" _Married?_ " Kirill offered.

"Ah yes!" Her face lit up in remembrance. "A perpetual breeding contract; at times the species of the galaxy display such sentimentalism."

Cinis spoke up, trying to be noticed. "Turians, asari, and if I am not mistaken, the quarians, also engage in this practice, mother."

Nizen smiled, not with the inquisitive and predatory appearance of earlier, but with tenderness. "That they do, so perhaps we are in the minority here."

"I think I would fail spectacularly in trying to explain the intricacies of marriage and why we engage in it, Dalatrass, so pardon me." Kirill bowed with his head.

"It is of no importance, this is a fancy of curiosity." Nizen walked away from the large veranda overlooking the city, enjoying the morning breeze for a little longer, and moved back to her throne proper. "Your presence here, the presence of your government, embodied through you and the fleets above this planet, must bear fruits of the geopolitical order, not answers to the musings of an old matriarch."

She waved a hand. "You are dismissed, for the time being."

As Kirill left together with Cinis, stalking through corridors and elevators, reaching her private wing of the building, he couldn't help but anticipate in the darkest recesses of his mind the fruits of his liaison would produce.

He would have to thank Cpt. Maxwell for recommending him to the Director once again.

' _If I leave this alive, that is_.' He remembered. ' _Still, it will be fun_.'

* * *

 _Janis, planetary capital._

Raljie listened intently to the argument unfolding before her, as her military advisors, subordinates, and liaisons from subordinate clans fought verbally about the minutiae of their current predicament.

It was in a way so boring and infuriating at the same time.

She had done all that was requested: swore fealty _, again_ , to her liege, provided her fleet levies, and hoped this entire affair would be over soon, perhaps even with a few rewards to herself.

But things had been disastrous so far.

She had lost all her ships still remaining on her orbit, _expensive_ ships retrofitted with the new gadgets, her planet was being bombed, and now the humans were landing troops and everything that Sur'Kesh told her was to hold out for as long as she could.

It seemed disproportionately unfair, why had her possessions been singled out for destruction? Why did she need to bear the costs of this war?

She could even be deposed by an underling if she lost too much; the shame would be too much to bear, many generations to achieve dominion over Janis thrown back into the lagoon in a matter of days.

But so far the capital hadn't been bombed yet, so the losses weren't so catastrophic.

"General Yoban, what is the state of the ground troops?" She questioned in her serene and placid voice, yet it still commanded supreme authority over the beings before her, and so she managed to drown out all other voices in the room.

The officers stopped their high-speed shouting match and reverted to a modicum of decorum, directing their gaze away from each other to the elevated throne overlooking their table and holographic display.

"Mobilization was underway ever since we received the battle plans, although not in full pace in order not to attract unneeded suspicion and due to the nature of the whole endeavor." The male in question spoke. "In general manners, as we did not expect invasion of your own possessions, my lady, we are frankly in a state of unpreparedness."

"We have not built temporary defensible positions, neither deployed minefields beyond the traditional ones on natural venues of attack to major urban centers, which largely fall under the responsibility of their owners." He continued speaking; seizing the attention Raljie paid to him as a beggar seizes thrown food. "Moreover, their airstrikes are so far devastating to our military grid, particularly on northwestern areas of the Birmü continent, and on our own; we calculate that 83% of our drone fleet has been destroyed while still on the ground, with the rest being engaged as we speak, along with loss of four of our five largest fusion plants to enemy airmobile infantry, together with the destruction of nearly all of the space defense cannons on this continent, and the loss of 70% of our WMD stockpiles."

"All of this I must state, within _twelve hours_ of bombardment." He stressed his point gesticulating in calculated manner. "The enemy gambled with millions of lives to force our hand in the defense of the cities, then struck utilizing what we can only imagine to be stealth craft in precise, focused, and relentless manner with hypersonic munitions of highly destructive potential."

"We won't delineate technicalities; however, we agree we have no effective way of engaging the enemy while they remain at standoff ranges and utilizing stealth methods." Another officer spoke. "What we're suffering, is nothing but a succession of blows of ever higher intensity to our morale, decision making process, and military capabilities, of which we have scant chance to react properly."

"So you're saying we can't win?" Raljie now sounded worried.

"We calculate the enemy can land between five hundred thousand to three million troops in the following hours." Yoban explained, and speaking before any other could interrupt him again. " _Unopposed_ and without suffering significant casualties on atmospheric entry, in addition, we have been outmaneuvered by tactical and operational means in the air, so they will enjoy air superiority, and if the pattern follows and we can't lessen their strikes, air supremacy, as our drone fleet will be completely destroyed."

"We have the bare descriptions on how they would fight on the ground, but OSINT has revealed that they'd utilize _massive_ numbers of armored vehicles of which the qualitative relation to our own is unknown." His voice betrayed slight desperation. "We can either focus on attracting the enemy to urban engagements to carve away at his numbers in pitched battle, face him on open ground and aim for operational victory or a stalemate of forces and means, or…"

" _Or?_ " The Dalatrass demanded.

"We can utilize a combination of the remaining thermonuclear and chemical weaponry to disrupt their larger formations or to destroy their landing sites entirely." The man spoke, hoping she'd refuse. "They would probably retaliate with WMDs of their own, and then we can expect the loss of up to 97% of all military assets, if they don't assume a counter-value strategy outright, then we're all vaporized."

The officers saw now that the subject of their heated discussion was out of their hands, and subject to the definitive decision of their Dalatrass; each clique hoped she'd answer in a particular way.

" _Preposterous_." Raljie dismissed after a few moments of deliberation. "I'm not nuking my planet for Erlana."

"We can also call for a ceasefire, under fair conditions." Yoban attempted to voice his desire as best as he could. "Right now, while we haven't engaged in ground combat yet, we can have a better negotiating position; after the humans have surrounded this city, not so much."

"Do you think I can retain my holdings if I surrender?"

"Well, it doesn't seem likely that the humans would want to involve themselves in provincial salarian politics, and they'd probably see you as a stabilizing force in the region." He answered. "They seem to be involved in the war on a greater scale, outside of the concerns of minor clans, largely because it was sprung on their doorstep, and in a rather hurried manner, by the Council."

The senior STG officer spoke shortly after. "A ceasefire now has its appeals, namely to cut our losses, but such a decision must not be considered taking in wartime facts alone, but also those that might spring in the _post-war_ period."

Raljie pondered for a few moments, evaluating what she had to gain, and also what she could lose.

"Erlana isn't losing, but she isn't _winning_ either." She spoke, rising from her seat. "We cannot give up without fighting, that'd look _too much_ like backstabbing, because if she _does_ win then we're doomed; make the troops fight for a least twenty four hours, then you evaluate our chances of defeating them, and if we can get good terms of ceasefire."

A pause. "More important than that, I want guarantees that my possessions will _not_ be touched…I will abstain for the moment, inform me if anything of notice happens."

She turned and left the room, being followed by her guards and aides.

Yoban stared at her retreating figure, and all he could think of was that she sentenced tens of thousands to certain death.

* * *

Gargantuan spaceships descended on the atmospheric layers of Janis, pushing air aside with violence, but slow in their own manner, utilizing their powerful gravity generators to descend as falling feathers instead of uncontrolled rocks sheathed in plasma, in a near vertical trajectory to the ground.

Frigates and cruisers escorted their descent, giving steady watch over their paths.

On four different points of the planet, some near to their peers, others distant, they readied themselves for invasion.

And soon, they landed, utilizing fine gravitic shifts to hit the ground at a comfortable speed, like elephants resting after a long day of marching across the wild, heavy and bulky. The gravitic fields generated around the ship flattened the ground as it approached the ground, as if an invisible hand smashed the soil.

On their bellies, landing pad protruded from their bulkheads, burrowing themselves into the ground, supporting the immensurable weight of the spacecraft.

Long, tall, and wide, the Jörmungandr-class ships, stood still for a few moments, before their hulls began to move, compartments and hangars hundreds of meters long began to open both on their laterals and up on their upper sections; blast doors detached and slipped inside the metallic hulk, allowing sunlight to pour inside the landing ship.

From the laterals, ramps extended out of the massive doors, and hit the ground at a fairly soft angle; in unison, scores of large and boxy armored vehicles began to spill out from the bellies of the metallic beasts in tight formations, leaving their motherships and hitting the ground with their tracks, kicking up dirt and smashing grass.

From the top of the ships, flight after flight of gunships took to the skies, with their own missions and targets, a cloud of insects emerging from inside their hive.

Brigade after brigade, division after division, hundreds of thousands would soon be cruising through the soil of Janis.

Clouds of dust began to pick up after the mass of vehicles on the ground numbered in the thousands, and as their formations spread themselves over the immediate countryside.

There were timetables to be followed, objectives to be seized, and enemies to be engaged, enveloped, and eventually destroyed.

Main battle tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, air-defense platforms, self-propelled artillery, all engaging in a ballet of tracks and dust to the tune of flying gunships.

The Imperial Army was on the move.

* * *

 _Gorot II, Vaerdall-aligned planet._

Angelo paid close attention to the three digital displays in front of him, akin to computer screens, but displaying information pertaining to the main battle tank and his gun sights, holding on firmly to his controls.

He heard the faint reverberations of the tank moving, his own breath, and the constant working of the life-support system cycling the air inside his sealed crew compartment.

Through the electronics on the tank, the world was displayed to his eyes as a black-and-white heat representation of real objects; a FLIR camera.

The tank moved at top speed, but he wanted to go faster, to close with the enemy and leave them no room for maneuver, but ultimately, he wanted this to be over.

They had already landed hours ago, with the INMC and the aerial complement aboard the strike carriers doing their strikes and air assaults, capturing or destroying important targets to help the Army complete their mission.

Outside the confines of metal and composite armor, flatlands extended for as far as the eyes could see, being populated by sparse trees and the rare woodland patch.

The T-800 MBT was a large vehicle, weighting 72 tons, measuring around 3m tall at the top of the turret, with large tracks to distribute the weight on the ground surface.

Mass-produced across the Empire by the GD-UVZ Company, a fusion by the late General Dynamics and Uralvagonzavod companies, it was a monster of metal built for breakthroughs, fire-support, and anti-vehicle combat, combining the ancient know-how of the two industries.

Angelo occupied the gunner position, being in command of the 120mm railcannon and of the co-axial machinegun, his controls dictating the turret's movements.

Deployment had been fast after completing his training, much like the unexpected promotion to Corporal in order to assume the gunner position on his tank, but now, awake for less than a week's time, he was in real combat.

" _Keep scanning_ ," the voice of the tank commander, Sgt. Kass, sounded inside his helmet.

Differing from a pilot or an infantryman, his helmet left his face unobstructed, albeit he wore a balaclava mask, part of his fire-resistant suit.

Pvt. Topolski, the driver, was in the same crew compartment as he was, sitting on his left. The compartment was an armored and sealed shell, built to maximize crew survivability in case of penetration or catastrophic failure.

The commander stayed inside the semi-unmanned turret, but like the gunner and driver, completely separated from the mechanical systems.

They moved in formation, but Angelo paid no mind to the tanks on their flanks, focusing on sweeping his reticle along the landscape, seeking for targets while utilizing the digital magnification to the maximum level.

"Target! 020, vehicle!" Angelo suddenly exclaimed, as the image of a vehicle came clear to his eyes, without the identifying blue diamond overlaid, and he instinctively aligned the reticle of his digital optics on the vehicle, lasing it and determining range. "4580, identified tank."

As soon as he had 'locked' onto the vehicle, the fire control system was already doing calculations, and his cannon aligned automatically to engage the target; the screen indicated his gun was ready to fire.

" _Fire sabot!_ " Kass ordered, watching the scene unfold with his own independent sights.

"On the way!"

Angelo controlled his gun, and consequently the turret, through a joystick, and a series of digital panels, and as soon as he pressed the trigger-like button, a powerful electrical current was fed into the pair of stelarite rails built on the cannon.

As soon as the current reached the superconductive metal, an electromagnetic field was generated, and the 20kg round was shot with a muzzle velocity at three kilometers per second.

The tank shook at the tremendous recoil, but the hydraulic compensators and dampening systems did their job for the largest part.

Angelo saw through the FLIR feed the bright spot fly off like a star and hit the enemy vehicle dead on, erupting in a shower of white-hot sparks that briefly obscured the vehicle, and then settling into an unmoving figure.

" _Re-engage! Fire sabot!_ " Kass was in a killing mood.

Five precise seconds after, the autoloader had chambered another sabot inside the breech, with only the rumblings of precise mechanical components reaching their compartments, reverberating across the metallic surfaces.

As soon as his display indicated, Angelo fired again, with the scene repeating itself, but now he saw a bright flame erupt as if it was an oversized blowtorch from the back of the vehicle shortly after his round struck.

" _Be advised all elements, we have entered in contact with hostile forces,"_ Angelo's second monitor indicated that the voice spoke from the Brigade net. " _We repeat: surrendering forces are to be ignored and left for collecting by following echelons_."

" _Driver, maintain speed and formation_." Kass reminded the younger driver.

Other tanks fired as well now, Angelo was finally in a real armored engagement, similar but different from the ones he participated continuously on the Arena.

Adrenaline flooded his system with each heartbeat, reaching every extremity of his body.

More moving shapes appeared on the FLIR sights, and he quickly picked another target. "Target, 4323, identified tank."

A press of a button, and the tank shuddered again, kicked up dust obscuring his optics for a brief moment before the tank dashed through the blast cloud.

" _Target hit_ ," his commander reported. " _Another, 4200, snapping you_."

Kass referred to the hunter-killer mode employed by tanks even before the Empire came to be, in which the vehicle commander sought targets, and when found, directed the gunner's sights towards it.

Angelo's sights moved on his own, and another vehicle came into his view, in a different angle than the previous ones.

He performed the firing protocol once again, pressing the firing button as soon as he could.

Another round downrange, but this time there was no shower of sparks neither hydrogen flame.

" _Wide left!"_ Kass reported, indicating that the shot missed the vehicle laterally to the left. " _It's the_ _fucking mid-range crosswinds, re-engage!_ "

His mind was in the here and now; he stopped thinking about family, home, the state of the galaxy, about anything else not pertaining to kilometers ahead of him and the enemies that they were populated by.

Five seconds had elapsed after the last shot, and Angelo fired again; this time the AP round struck home, and the enemy vehicle lurched, slowly coming to halt on its own.

His perception of time was reduced to series of a few seconds and minutes, future and past became blurred; Angelo's world had been reduced to the mechanics of killing armored vehicles.

* * *

"She was supportive of me enlisting, you know?" Topolski seemed at ease with himself at the helm of the tank.

"But you just married," Angelo replied. "I thought you'd want to spend more time with her."

"As I said," Topolski reiterated. "She was supportive, I was on basic, like a lot of us, and we kind of wanted to earn more, she was afraid she wasn't going to make it on corporate. Well it was here or some other state service, I don't think _I_ can make corporate."

" _What does she do again?_ " Kass asked, speaking on their internal channel.

" _Ah!_ " Topolski lit up at the opportunity to keep talking about his wife. "She's an undergraduate designer, she's planning to move into clothing industry, so she needs to study fashion as well, most of the time she does freelancer jobs from home."

"You could have gone to a colony, you know?" Angelo remarked, turning his eyes away from the screens for a moment. "That frontier life…a plot of land…perhaps even a farm if you are inclined to such things,"

"I considered that, but I don't know." The driver said. "Maybe I just wanted to join, it seemed to me like the only option at the time, maybe that's it, I don't really know..."

" _Approaching phase line 73 East_." A company-level radio chimed in inside their helmets, killing their conversation.

The day waned, and they drove deeper and deeper into the continent, part of a grand scheme to defeat the capacity of the defenders to properly engage them and defend their territory.

Now, the clouds above took in afternoon hues, and the system's primary made a slow descent through the darkening sky.

While the specifics of how their particular campaign were largely kept out of the knowledge of the rank and file for a variety of reasons, they considered things to be going well.

" _We'll stop in hull defilade at that mound Topolski, that's the line_." Kass ordered. " _Gunner, load ATGM_."

"Roger," was the collective response.

Angelo quickly pressed few buttons on his joystick, and the autoloader quickly replaced the chambered AP round for the AT-25 Archer anti-tank missile.

In the silence of the idle tank, as the power plant for motive power and firing was purely electrical, they crew could hear the metal working outside their compartments with more clarity than before, but not the hiss of air being sucked and compressed outside the tank.

" _All callsigns Hunter hold fire."_ Their Captain spoke again.

" _Any time now_ ," Kass, being an 'experienced' tanker as he was, still left tinges of anticipation and anxiousness color his speech occasionally. " _Keep scanning_."

The tanks' heightened position allowed for the horizon to be more distant than usual: "Target, bearing 023, 8090, identifying…too far to see properly, I _think_ that's a cannon, but it's clearly wheeled like the other ones."

" _I don't think they use tracked vehicles, haven't seen any since we landed_ ," Kass commented.

Angelo had his sights locked on the vehicle, a small rectangle enveloping the enemy in the FLIR feed, representing that the missile seeker head had indeed acquired the target.

" _Hold fire_ ," Sgt. Kass reminded him.

"Roger that," Angelo acknowledged the order.

Seconds passed, then turned into minutes of silence and anticipation, and now the fields ahead of them were populated with more and more vehicles, arranged into packed formations, long lines, and protective columns on the edges.

" _An organized retreat_ ," Kass immediately identified the maneuver.

" _Jesus Christ_ , that's divisional level strength right there," Topolski exclaimed in awe beside Angelo. "Colonel Andrés can't possibly expect us to engage this."

" _All callsigns, we've received a mission update, we're to engage and destroy as many targets as possible_." This time his display indicated the transmission came from the brigade net.

"But there are tons of vehicles there…maybe even more than a thousand, we're a single brigade for fucks sake…" Angelo commented out loud on their internal channel.

" _We've received fast-air priority; we just have to paint them."_ Kass said. " _Pick anyone you like_."

Angelo pressed a button on a digital panel to his left, and his sights changed from the usual gunnery displays to a simple cross reticle; he aligned it with the same vehicle he kept track of for the last minutes, with Kass doing the same with another unlucky target with his own independent sights.

The systems were integrated, and as such, to maximize destruction, each target indicated with a small icon above if it was already being painted by someone else; thin and humble laser beams suddenly appeared, invisible, reflecting off the hulls of alien vehicles in small dots.

Time flowed, and without warning, dozens of bright stars suddenly impacted the ground, bright white-hot explosions populating Angelo's zoomed-in FLIR feed.

A show of flying debris, flames of venting hydrogen fuel cells, ammunition cooking off inside vehicles and causing catastrophic explosions of proportion similar to the primary impacts themselves.

Beyond the kilometers between salarians and humans, the distance between the gunners and their targets was also that of the electronic systems they operated, translating infrared radiation into discernible images, but those images appeared to the young men inside their tanks as nothing more than targets, simple infrared objects that had to be engaged, as if they were still playing a videogame back home.

And the process repeated itself, they designated more targets from the column, and more smart bombs came, ripping metal and lives apart, establishing disarray and chaos.

The column began to disperse, rushing past their burning companions in their bid for survival.

A last round of bombs fell, and now the landscape was alight with burning vehicles, or wreckages, with fingers of black smoke rising to the air.

A few moments elapsed, with the enemy vehicles dispersing, and rejoining their original units; but some assumed a direct path towards the countryside at the Imperials.

Their brigade net came alive again: " _All callsigns, weapons free_."

The killing restarted, scores of railcannons opening fire as the world shifted from day into night, dust clouds being suddenly kicked up into the air.

The tanks picked their targets, depressing their guns at negative angles, fired, and then reversed on their slopes back into total defilade, hiding their silhouettes from the enemy; with drivers and gunners in total cooperation, in unison of systems and minds.

Angelo picked another target out of many, at a whim, the rectangle returning to existence upon the enemy vehicle.

As he pulled his trigger again, the tank did not shake, but rather the pressurized air was suddenly fed into the railcannon tube, pushing the missile out of the tube without having to ignite the engine inside the compartment.

Once it was many meters ahead of its launcher vehicle, the missile came to life, metallic-hydrogen burning at thousands of degrees, with the projectile arcing upward and upward, making a wide arc through the landscape, and then slamming into the perceived top of his target.

A ball of flame and smoke enveloped it, but the vehicle emerged out of the fireball shortly after, apparently unharmed.

" _Fucking kinetic barriers,"_ Kass cursed. _"Re-engage, fire sabot!_ "

The autoloader did its job once again, and another round was put in the breech.

The tank shuddered, along with many others along the mounds and ridgelines, spitting hypervelocity metallic arrows into their targets.

Angelo watched another shower of sparks erupt on the vehicle he focused at, leaving a distinct smoking hole in their vehicle.

The tanks emerged out of cover, took no more than two seconds to select a target, then fired, reversing back into cover; ancient tactics of long past battlefields, transposed into the far future.

Slugs flew from both sides, as the salarian defenders identified the source of direct fire, and returned with their own anti-vehicle weapons, with other elements retreating.

" _All callsigns, recon elements indicate massive retreat of enemy forces out of our operational depth, part of which we are engaging, this puts the brigade in position to exploit the current situation and cut them off."_ Colonel Andrés suddenly came up on their radio after the three beeps, transmitting over to the entire brigade out of his own vehicle. " _We're advancing out of defilade and beginning the breakthrough_."

Angelo looked immediately towards Topolski, incredulity showing in his eyes. "Is he insane or what?"

" _Fucking maniac; keep formation Topolski_ ," Kass spoke. " _It looks we're staying up all night, alright, let's fucking do this boys!_ "

As a collective mind, the mass of tanks released IR smoke grenades in front of them from the small swiveling launchers on the turrets, and then abandoned their cover, driving over the small hills and natural defilades emerging out of the smoke wall, moving into the open fields, driving over bushes, ripping the ground open with their tracks, kicking up dust and soil behind them.

The guns continued their symphony, young men turning into spectators and performers of death's crescendo, eliciting notes of tungsten and fire.

* * *

They had finished off the units that had retreated into their line of fire in short order, and now the tanks drove at full speed, rushing past the dead husks of their enemies.

Sgt. Marti Kass couldn't resist breaking protocol: he wanted to see, to witness the events that would mark him forever, with his _real eyes_ , and not through a digital screen.

He unsealed the hatch with a hiss, ignoring the cries of ' _Comrade Commander!_ ' that sounded in his helmet as soon as the systems on his fellow crewmembers' screens indicated what he was doing.

Fresh air rushed inside his personal compartment in the turret, intermingled with the distinct smell of something burning.

The commander position isolated him from the other crewmembers, but allowed privileged vision of the tank surroundings, both through the cameras spread on the turret and hull, but also by simply standing up and looking outside.

He had propped himself up, standing upright out of the hatch, and got a clear look of the landscape.

The heat hit his exposed eyes first, together with the rushing wind, not the searing heat of a raging inferno, but the steady heatwave of a fireplace.

Hundreds of vehicles were sprawled, some of them not even vehicles anymore, but agglomerates of parts and distorted metal, with combustible components alight around them. Others simply burned through ballistic entrance holes, and laid with their hatches open by the surviving crews who had abandoned them.

Others were immobile and silent, without smoke or fire, with hatches closed tightly, becoming eternal coffins for their occupants.

He looked side to side, and the dark shadows of his fellow MBTs made their way across the maze of wreckages and burning hulls, the fires burning illuminated the metallic shadows that sped through the plains.

The sun was setting in the distance, and the world turned darker and darker, the smoke got higher and higher in the sky.

The image imprinted itself on his memory, and he felt eternal, a scene that repeated itself across the centuries and would forever more.

An indecipherable emotion hit him, and he felt deep within his heart that this was the moment of his life.

The distinctive sound of jets grew on his ears, bringing him back of his reverie, and Kass turned to look to the tank's rear.

Much faster than the tanks themselves, a few flights of Hammerheads dashed across the killing ground, the gunships appearing as dark predatory shapes hugging the ground.

While the landscape was dark, overshadowed by mountainous elevations to their left, the sky retained the orange and blue mix of the afternoon after the sun's downward path, while on the east, the darkness was complete.

His first reaction was to raise his right arm and wave, as if he were a child watching military parade.

Nearing 925km/h on lower atmosphere, the Sergeant was almost sure the pilots hadn't seen him; there was no way after all, he was too small in comparison to everything else around, and they were too fast.

But as the aircraft rushed past the tank formations, one of them, who Kass judged to have flown directly above him, released a few flares for no discernible reason.

The flares stopped being infrared countermeasures, and became beacons of light in the night sky.

Kass let out a laugh of true happiness, a reaction unexplainable even to him, and waved again at the gunships as they flew off in the distance.

For brief seconds, the metal graveyard around him ceased to exist, there was no war, and no risk of death, there was only the elegant path the flares performed as they fell to the ground.

* * *

Their battalion had detached from the larger brigade formation, following along the enemy's previous path, discovering a six-lane highway, build not necessarily by the overwhelming quantity of ground vehicles, but also to streamline aircar traffic, guide them into lanes offering the shortest path between destinations while also keeping them from simply flying off freely, causing unnecessary havoc on the airspace.

Nearly a hundred tanks drove in road-march formation, scanning front, left, and right as they utilized the pavement for top speed; trailing them, anti-air vehicles provided necessary air cover.

The vehicles, designated SA-50, shared the same chassis as the T-800 tanks, much like the overwhelming majority of land vehicles utilized by the Imperial Armed Forces, such as artillery, IFVs, engineers, and command vehicles, giving a commonality of over 85% in mechanical and electronic parts.

In the dead of night, broken only by the sound of tracks on the ground, the battalion moved with road lights off, always maintaining the maximum of stealth as they could.

The turrets of the air defense company, twelve SA-50s in total, suddenly swiveled from their frontal-facing positions with automatic and mechanical precision, and the night was suddenly illuminated by the ignition of metallic-hydrogen engines, as missiles flew to meet their targets.

Dashing trails of light in open fields, immediately accompanied by impossibly long and fast streams of red fire from the rotary 20mm railguns on the vehicles, ended their brief operational lives in bright explosions.

Angelo watched the engagement unfold through his sights, aligning the turret to see the action, unsure if their air defense company fired at missiles or at aircraft proper.

As soon as it had begun, it ended.

The two-man crews on the AD vehicles remained scanning the engagement bearing for a few moments more before reverting their attention to the road and the abandoned conversations, while their unmanned turrets had long reverted to their standby positions.

IRST cameras and tadar panels fused their eyesight to provide 360° coverage to the SPAAWs, albeit with limited range due to a series of factors.

The vehicles continued on their road, never straying, connected to each other in systems that spoke to their peers incessantly.

Time piled on, minutes full of turrets scanning the landscape automatically, of tracks perpetually in movement, of mindless chatter as the stimshots entered their bloodstreams, true energy bombs to keep the soldiers awake and alert in extended ops.

They continued into the night, driving deep into enemy countryside, their brigade engaged in tactical-operational movements in relation to their own strategic objectives, in concert with their division, in turn aligned with their field army, itself part of the overreaching battlegroup.

Almost perfectly, the lead tanks began to break off from the paved highway, driving into the dirt again, being followed by the next formation as they exited the road at a point spaced in front of them.

The battalion followed suit until they had reformed a battle line again, moving perpendicular to the unnamed highway, driving over rail protections, leaving them as scrap metal at the roadside.

The anti-air vehicles halted for the moment, giving time for the principal formation to distance itself, before following their trail, spreading over the land for optimal coverage of the entire formation.

Modern war eschewed paper maps, compasses, and rulers; their AO was displayed in a digital map on their screens, with icons indicating fellow units, lines and waypoints overlaid across the map's features delineating objectives and maneuver lanes.

" _Wedge formation_." Lt. Col. Gardet spoke on their battalion net, ordering his troops into a different formation, with the companies obeying immediately, forming the arrowhead, with the edges of the line slowing down their speed until they naturally fell into formation, scanning their flanks and front in equal proportion.

The sky was painted with stars, without a moon, but with the splash of white of the galactic horizontal axis making up for it in a way, akin to a splash of milk across the firmament.

Angelo was once again focusing on his sights, sleep being nothing more than a forgotten bodily function, inhibited by the syringe shot they had taken earlier, on the orders of the Colonel.

"Look at the time, it's like Colonel Andrés wants to drive to these guys' capital in one day." Topolski commented beside him, eyeing his own screens, a digital windshield.

" _It may not even be the Colonel, who knows how the other formations fare? We have no info on the general situation, just as allowed by the integrated battle map_." Kass spoke slowly and slightly bored. " _It might be the Major General, or even General Halen himself_."

Angelo watched a ball of light fly off near the ground in the distance through his sights, and he identified immediately what was happening. "Contact front, commander,"

" _All elements, contact front, weapons free, maintain formation_." Their Lieutenant Colonel spoke over their net, giving his orders.

" _Already scanning_ ," the commander replied, eyes fixated on his FLIR sights. " _Snapping, cargo vehicle, load HE_."

"Roger," Angelo replied, commanding the autoloader to switch ammunition type.

The machine complied, removing the round present on the railgun, storing it back on the ammo stowage, and then picking the desired type, loading it inside the tube, all in ten seconds flat.

Angelo fired the main gun as soon as it was allowed, the system adjusting for wind, elevation, temperature, and the ballistic data from the round itself.

Differing from the metal rods that were sabot shots, the HE-FS was not simply hardened metal, but a complex system of extending aerodynamic fins, electronic detonators, and actual explosive.

It flew off the muzzle of the 120mm much slower than the armor-piercing arrow, describing a flattened arc as it rose in the air, and falling as gravity pulled it down.

Angelo watched it detonate by proximity on the vehicle, a bright ball of fire, followed by an enormous secondary explosion and flame, akin to a match box igniting all matches at the same time.

More rounds followed from other vehicles, until their targets simple erupted in a large fireball, engulfing all possible enemies the tanks could see.

" _Halt, halt, halt_ ," Gardet ordered on their net, with the battalion slowly coming to a halt under the starlit sky, watching in silence as the collection of supply trucks and vehicles were engulfed as _something_ was ignited.

Plumes of fire dozens of meters high erupted in across the complex, with the shapes of buildings being engulfed in fire.

"Was this a military target?" Topolski questioned, watching the inferno come to life through his displays.

"Who knows?" Angelo shrugged, while scanning the landscape for vehicles or troops.

The vehicles reformed at the orders from their leader, heading off into another direction, always mindful of their relative distance to the rest of the brigade, driving off into the night, always on the hunt.

In the distance, beyond the horizon, occasional flashes of light shared space with the sounds of a tremendous battle reaching any ear that could hear it.

* * *

 _Citadel, Irissa's office._

"We can't go spilling battle plans that you're not involved with, I'm sorry but it is what it is."

For Irissa, getting what she wanted out of the human in front of her proved more and more difficult, and turned out to be a true test of patience. "Then how can we help you like this? You're leaving us in the dark."

Irissa and Nassana sat on the sofa below the flatscreen, right where Tevos prefered to sit when speaking with Irissa, while 'Filip' sat on the one nearby the wall-sized window, with his back to the glass panel.

"We don't need your ships, or your commandos, Councilor, that's why we aren't sharing them, there's no reason to; the Republics should not get involved in this with guns." The human diplomat answered, sighing. "What you can do to help us now is to prepare the ground for a permanent human presence in the galaxy, and perhaps even on the Council itself. We won this war before the first shot was fired."

"If I can divulge something to you, is that we don't plan for neither the Sesoln or Vaerdall to retain a position of authority on the Union, when the war ends." He said. "At least not in the way either of them expect. As I believe the Councilor has once said, they are problematic."

"How salarian of you," Nassana commented, turning her attention away from the tea in her hands to the man before her. "But declarations of military prowess and grandeur aside, diplomat, we _need_ a clear line of communications, as I've told you before; this could explode as we speak."

"I know that, that's why we need your vaunted diplomatic and economic influence to stop that from happening," the man retorted. "Because if we catch the scent of the intent to begin an open and declared war by the Hierarchy, we're going all-out, _total war_ , no stops until total victory."

Silence fell for upon them for a few moments, and Irissa released a sigh, accepting a glass of water from one of the aides, who quickly exited the room when not serving the occupants.

"But Harper will answer you soon, he's quite busy right now, you understand," he spoke, chuckling. "…and Constantine is in transit, and while he _could_ contact you, we admit, he is busy as well with a personal matter and a few details that need straightening and delineating, and we don't want to beam comms to the Citadel directly, as in to _you_ , too risky; on the overall, we have things under control."

"To know about those two, and their _contacts_ with us, you must be from the MID, if I am correct." Nassana spoke this time, smirking. "Are all human diplomats intelligence agents?"

"Do you expect an honest answer out of what by all means is a spy?" Filip smiled. "But I will indulge you: we did not need an official diplomatic service since the end of the Great War, but maybe we do now, so expect to see fresh new faces around this station and on future embassies on your worlds as well."

"That is good to hear," Irissa commented.

"New opportunities for bright individuals, for sure, but they'll need thorough training; STG is always watching, calculating, _acting_." He said. "Personally, if I may voice my own opinions, I'd rather this be a new division of the Directorate, or perhaps a joint one with the FSB; but the Senate had other plans."

"I have rarely heard from these FSB agents, even less met one while Constantine and Andromeda had come here, or even before, why is that so?" Irissa questioned him.

"His guards come from the FSB, and trust me, you don't want to 'meet' them in a professional situation," Filip answered, before motioning to stand, with the two asari standing as well. "Well, these peace talks will continue until the day after tomorrow, if no one walks out of it earlier, so I must sleep for a while, being entirely honest, I'm sort of jetlagged right now."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Nordlund, I see you tomorrow, Goddess-willing." Nassana said.

"I hope we can work more in concert in the future, and that this newly forming asari-human-elysian compact can be fructiferous to all, for now, rest well, we have much to do." Irissa bid her farewell as well.

"By the way, about the elysians: as you know, since the end of the Great War, their bellicose capacities and intents have fallen to zero, but they kept their own economy going despite the losses we both had." He spoke at the mention of the natives to Elysia.

He looked around as if trying to conjure the right words. "…see them as you see us, the relationship is symbiotic, we are one and the same, don't pull any stunts. Since we might as well be offshoots of one another, for whatever reason, they'll get over their xenophobia and come around to you, but only _you_ , as they once came around to us, but don't get your hopes up for anything beyond that."

"We'll speak more at a later time," he finished. "The Prince sends his regards to you two; expect him to be back here at two weeks' time or earlier."

And with that he walked away, moving from the office into the main body of the Tower, meeting with his security detail, and then proceeding to the cruiser docked on the Republics docks.

While the arms slowly spun, while aircars dashed across space carrying beings to and from, while politicians and diplomats schemed and deliberated, bloodshed and warfare raged across the stars, billions of kilometers away.

* * *

 **A/N:** Another installment, kind of a treat given the space between updates, but not really.

I usually try to provide the clearest descriptions my mind can convey of events few of us have seen in real life, but if you want to see what I imagine the AA engagement scene to be like, search for ' _CRAM at night_ ' on YT.

Thank you all for reading, and please leave a review!


	23. Beyond the Dark

**A/N:** Hey! Another chapter for you, I hope you all like it.

As always, this was edited by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Janis, fourth day of Operation Steel Rain._

Wilhelm had a clear shot.

The salarian in his sights manned some kind of LMG, spitting grain-sized slugs at high rate of fire against them. He pressed the trigger, and the being went slack, green mist erupting and vanishing on his body.

He fired a couple more of 3-shot bursts in the general direction, hitting foliage and trees, and then fell back into cover.

In between the falling rain, the Hammerheads who took cover behind buildings to fire at the approaching troops, and the pounding of artillery fired from hundreds of kilometers away, he could still hear the crack of air his firearm made.

The enemy had once again tried to retake the power plant, and the MHA-44s that carried them planetside spent the last of their ATGMs carving away at their numbers once again, retreating from the surrounding countryside back to the plant, hovering behind geographical features and buildings, waiting until the attackers hit them again.

Enemy artillery came down on them first, however, and the Hammerheads once again had to be of use, utilizing their Aegis-3 Active Protection System as a makeshift C-RAM platform.

Originally used to defend a vehicle against homing missiles, the diminutive laser pods extended out of the vehicles when needed, and fired a pulse train at any guided or unguided projectile that the systems detected.

It was present on most AFVs utilized by the Empire, such as tanks or infantry vehicles, and was designed to engage one or two threats at a time, but not a focused artillery barrage; while it could indeed lessen the numbers of round on target, they couldn't defend completely against it.

As such many rounds had gotten through the makeshift counter-artillery measure, and had impacted the earth and concrete around them many minutes before the attack had even began, throwing rock and shrapnel into the air.

Many marines had been unlucky, and now were either dead, or patched up with the blue goo that was medigel attached to their wounds, but back into the action.

A number of those Hammerheads were now burning wrecks, hit by enemy direct-fire coming from their APCs and vehicles, or victims of a direct hit by an artillery shell, still, the armored cockpit ensured many pilots had left with their lives and bodies mostly intact, even if the rest of the craft turned into scrap.

During the initial shelling, Wilhelm and his squad had taken cover in whatever solid looking object they could find, he could hear the Lieutenant Colonel broadcasting to a higher command level while still on their net: " _Gimme some HE, counter-battery those fuckers!_ "

The situation was precarious at first, but the marines weren't alone. The tanks were on their way, and they simply needed to hold out for a little more.

Now, Wilhelm watched from the same concrete cover he once stormed as a tree line outside the perimeter of the power plant erupted in fire and smoke, hundreds of small explosions coming to life, yellow sparks flying everywhere as the high-explosive rounds hit the ground.

The sound hit them shortly after, a cracking sound as if a million bubbles of hard material burst or if a giant canvas was shredded, then the famed and feared sound of the 20mm rotary railgun.

' _BRRRRT!_ '

It was soon followed by the jet engine roar as the MQ-250 Predator dashed across the landscape at supersonic speeds, releasing bright flares in trios, banking and turning to make another pass.

" _Get fucked!_ " Cpl. Braga cheered on the net, as he lobbed grenade after grenade from the M280 launcher beneath his weapon, well underway to spend his stock of them.

Wilhelm rose again at the call for suppressive fire from Sergeant Kirin, and fired again as another alien attempted to man the abandoned machinegun, shoving his comrade's body aside; he fell in the same manner, a gaping hole on his chest.

' _BRRRRT!_ ' resounded again, booming across the facility.

Pvt. Jaarsveld was a beast, his M80 firing non-stop at the far tree line, accurate and deadly, only stopping to let the weapon cool down and to replace spent batteries.

Jackson was beside himself, taking cover on the same concrete roadblock, and he kept a firing cadence as well, although his right shoulder had a patch of medigel latched on to it, where previously a burst of grain-sized slugs had tore through his skin, staining the uniform with dried blood.

Miguel and his assistant rifleman had long spent all their missiles, and the AT team now reverted back to being simply riflemen, firing away with their M74s at the enemy lines, in fact, Wilhelm subconsciously believed their entire platoon to be out of ATGMs.

But the proof of their work was burning vehicle carcasses both at the distance and those that attempted to rush through open ground.

Many vehicles stretched either in between the trees, in attempts to provide fire-support, or attempted a rush through the approaches to the power plant.

Wheels stood apart from their axes, rubber and other composite materials burning or shredded, hulls of pale silver were blackened by fire and explosion, falling victim to the 30mm cannons on the surviving Hammerheads, or to their powerful Wolverine ATGMs, or from the versatile Spear missiles carried by the marines.

Crews had long bailed out, SMGs in hand and firing bursts as they joined their own lines, or simply never left their vehicles once their barriers were depleted and armor penetrated.

The entire company held the entrance against God-knew how many enemies, and to their luck, they had fire support priority for that task.

They occupied the wrecked husks of the guard towers, buildings near the entrance, the concrete roadblocks themselves, and occasionally the artillery crater to hold their line.

SPG-200s provided fire support to their besieged battalion, hundreds of kilometers away, firing their 155mm rounds at 3 km/s as was usual, safe from any possible counter-battery fire, the speed of their shells giving range and safety, as the ordnance described ballistic arcs many kilometers high in the sky.

They constantly delivered 10kg of C-8 high explosive and fragmentation warheads, with some shells exploding in airbursts and others lifting earth and burnt grass as well as bodies as they hit the ground directly.

Accompanying them were MRL-240s, nicknamed Valeri's Organs by their crews, rained rocket artillery on the battlefield, be on the surrounding hills, or approaching flatlands, 120mm missiles fell in ripple salvos, sprinkling the landscape with potent HE warheads, or cluster ones, spreading hundreds of bomblets across the forests and plains.

Utilizing a combination of heat sensors, GPS, inertial, and laser guidance, the rounds fell on deadly waves around their perimeter, toppling trees and shredding beings apart. The entire apparatus of the Army fire-support formations delivered harsh pain to those attacking the power plant, and much needed firepower to relief those defending it.

" _Five minutes! Hang in there!_ " His helmet replicated the voice from the tank commander as he spoke on their battalion net. " _We're punching through as fast as we can!_ "

LTC Gergely answered, with his own broadcast being marred by laser and ballistic fire. " _Speed, you fucker, speed!_ "

Another drone made a pass elsewhere, and again, the railguns sang their tune to all who could hear: ' _BRRRRT!_ '

Wilhelm found another target, and fired, and another enemy fell by his hand, struck by infrared laser. He quickly replaced the spent battery, his back hitting the concrete cover again as he concealed himself, removing it from underneath the rifle, storing it back on the pouches on his armor, and then snapping a fresh one.

Amid the chaos of artillery, of air support, of orders being shouted across their communication nets, of the heavy downpour that made the concrete slick and washed the blood of the dead and the wounded, Wilhelm found inner calm.

Not in philosophical platitudes or truisms, not in field manuals and speeches, but in hearing his own breathing, the air entering and exiting his lungs, fed inside his helmet.

His mind was completely blank but flooded with adrenaline all the same, no feelings, simply muscle memory and the innate killer instinct.

* * *

It was over as soon as the T-800s broke through the enemy's rear, blasting their way through one of the highways and into the complex.

It was simply too much.

The Janis natives were under constant indirect fire, air attack, and facing stubborn defenders high on fanatical morale and stimshots; so when the salarian forces heard of the armored relief, their commander called for retreat.

Still, even as they disengaged and retreated out of the immediate area, Army Aviation still harassed them, supersonic bombers roared kilometers above their formations dropping lethal smart bombs, and more tanks closed in.

There would be no escape for the retreating salarian elements, only surrender, or death inside their vehicles or on their feet.

To Gergely, who at that time had a heavily wounded left arm soaked in medigel, the large tanks coming through their western gate was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his 45 years of life, even with tracks caked in mud and grass, still sporting the greenish and brown camouflage.

IFV-450s followed quickly behind, as large as the MBTs themselves, scanning the land with their unmanned turrets, twin 30mm railguns sweeping the area for remaining targets, many with several spent ATGM tubes on their sides.

On the infantry fighting vehicles, the plasma cell was moved to the front instead of the back as was usual with other models based on the common chassis, with the backside being reserved for the crew and passenger compartment.

They also showed their own battle scars, one vehicle with the unmanned turret completely ruined, being converted from an IFV into an unarmed APC, and many showed the spots where kinetic rounds or guided munitions had impacted them, many slats of ERA missing from their hulls.

Their ramps lowered, and mechanized infantry disembarked in practiced manner, reinforcing their INMC comrades on their positions.

The lead tank stopped a dozen meters off his command post on the surface, a collection of metal barriers and bunkered down marines from his HQ platoon near the entrance to the plant's main building.

The commander opened his hatch with a hiss under the rain, and emerged out from his metal confines: visibly sweating from the tension of combat, with slightly gelatinous legs and a wild-eyed look to his face, the man jumped out from the turret, falling on wet pavement.

He nearly lost his footing at the slippery asphalt, feet hitting the ground at an angle, but held fast at his tank's hull.

The tanker pulled the lower piece of the balaclava down to his neck, exposing his nose and mouth to fresh air once again, even though the acrid smell of artillery still remained mixed with wet concrete.

The tank was in a similar state to many of its brothers: bare in many spots from its ERA blocks, the 12.7mm electric machinegun atop the turret, that when intact fired case-less tungsten bullets at the remote control of the commander, was a mangled mess of distorted metal and electronics.

Still, the tank's personal nickname, christened by its own crew stood proudly on white letters on the cannon, ' _TORO LOCO_ ' in ancient Spanish, along with the identification number ' _785_ ' on the rear of the turret.

Gergely removed his helmet and ran to meet the man.

Despite the interservice rivalry, the jokes and insults, both men met with bright smiles in a hug, ignoring their dirtiness, kissing each other's cheeks as if old friends meeting after long years; then settled back to talk about nonsense and their current situation in equal proportion.

It was as the textbook dictated: The INMC struck first, capturing strategic objectives, and then held them until linkup by armored and mechanized forces belonging to the Army.

Soldiers would swap souvenirs, war stories, and the dead would be mourned as the survivors were patched up. Already those who lived cheered another day of survival, singing ' _The Artilleryman's Song_ ' over their fire-support comm net, honoring their long-range saviors.

To Gergely, it may not have been a glorious and gallant defense of a human world, of their homes and families, but the linkup by the armored vehicles held as much emotional weight to him as any Great War movie.

As the details of everything else but their relief from duty were sorted out by their general staff, both officers sat down by a curb and drank fresh water as if it were a heavenly drink.

The rain stopped shortly after, the clouds breaking for the afternoon sun to shine through in orange beams to the earth, painting the tree canopies in a golden-green hue.

Gergely closed his eyes, with his good arm resting atop one knee, and as the day came to an end, he thought of a red-headed woman, whose fire colored hair began to sport grey strands.

His mind drifted further, and he saw a teenager boy, much similar to him, but with shoulder length hair, practicing endlessly with a soccer ball against the garage wall.

"Comrade Lieutenant Colonel!" Gergely heard, opening his eyes suddenly, hands flying to his M74, attached by a sling to his armor.

His adjutant Captain came running from his command post, a fresh faced man from the Academy on Mars itself, Gergely had judged that he would go far long ago.

The senior officer relaxed, letting go of the laser rifle.

"The enemy has called for ceasefire!" His smile was brighter than explosion he had seen during their little siege.

The tanker beside him released a long-held sigh, extending his legs from the sidewalk into the asphalt and stretching his arms and legs, swiveling his neck to ease the tension.

"Honor and Fatherland." He muttered, rising to sit upright again on the wet sidewalk, staring up into the evening sky.

Hammerheads settled down atop buildings that could support their weight, tanks and infantry vehicles went to and from across the complex, their tracks biting at the ground, the sounds of sporadic railcannon fire reached their plateau, distant and weak.

Gergely opened a smile, reaching for a pocket on his armor, equally filthy as the rest of the battlefield; he pulled a cigar and a lighter, cutting it with his service knife, and setting it ablaze.

Drones and bombers were little dots on the sky, white contrails forming behind them as they cruised in supersonic speeds.

He inhaled, releasing white smoke from his lungs, not dissimilar to the contrails themselves, offering the cigar to the tank commander beside him.

"Semper-fucking-Fidelis," Gergely relaxed, falling on his back on the wet sidewalk, as if it were a bed, letting go at last.

* * *

 _Gorot II._

Angelo had heard the news, precisely after twenty four hours of furious air/ground combat, Janis had surrendered.

He sure didn't enjoy war, the tragedy that enveloped them all; but he sure as hell felt pride.

That's what they trained for! It was the lightning strike, the shattering thunder, the wake of the tracks on dirt, the roar of the railguns.

It was similar to the exercises the Army ran on the Arenas, based on actual ancient battle-plans or real world events.

He remembered them all: Seven Days to River Rhine, Tel-Aviv Thunder, August Storm Two, and many others.

Series of penetrations by armored elements, accompanied by mechanized infantry, supported by accurate and relentless indirect fire, under the watch of efficient airstrikes and electronic warfare.

And then, it ultimately resulted in the outmaneuvering of the enemy and collapse of his defensive lines in intermittent areas, with breakthrough troops driving deep into his operational and consequently strategic rear.

Mechanized infantry, main battle tanks, artillery, and fast-air, all coming together in fast paced combat.

He could taste that they were close as well, even if his tank stood in a hull-down position, fending off a massive counterattack on their area of operations.

At first, Topolski had used the self-entrenching blade on their lower glacis to quickly dig a shelter, metal breaking the earth and burrowing itself into the soil, and now the only person actually exposed to enemy fire was Kass, inside his own compartment on the turret.

Still, the first enemy wave had come and gone, met with deadly metal darts, missiles, indirect fire, and the ever-present fast-air.

Then, after their initial engagement, they retreated out of their defilade holes, reversing to a secondary position this time prepared by the engineer units on their brigade, just in time for the enemy's own artillery to fall down on the now-empty positions.

Things were much calmer now, and Angelo enjoyed his hot drink.

After using the water heating device inside their compartment in combination with one of the pre-sugared tea-bags from their stock, Angelo now understood why his instructors had said that the army couldn't run without its tea and coffee.

He drank coffee out of a polymer cup, while Topolski himself had common tea; sure, the water was from the life-support system, drained from the atmospheric moisture itself, but it did the job nonetheless.

At this point, owing to the several influences of Imperial institutions following the events of the 21st century, armored vehicles designed with the ability to prepare hot coffee or tea had become a tradition.

After preparing their beverages, they heated their super nutritious MREs; the downside of their day.

While in previous centuries the ready-to-eat meal could actually contain solid food, the Army had always sought to reduce logistics concerns.

As such, they now used medigel instead of a plethora of apparatus, all vehicles utilized the same common chassis instead of multiple designs, their planetary assault craft had a manufacturing plant to tend to their broad needs, their water came from the life-support system, and they relieved themselves by a quick reconfiguration of their seats.

And their food was nothing but a genetically engineered industrialized paste, ingested through a straw, being able to feed a human being for an entire day.

It was a simple small bag, made of a material a mix of plastic and aluminum, black letters printed of the reflective material indicating the contents and how to prepare it.

And they were a 72-ton main battle tank; they had enough of the small packs stored for a full year.

The amenity, if it could even be called that, was being able to consume the artificially-flavored paste warm.

During these times, Angelo deeply envied his Navy peers, eating in proper mess halls, with proper food, and the dignity of being able to actually shower.

Not that he or anyone else in the Army would ever voice that aloud.

* * *

 _AES Intruder, Dirac Sea._

"So? He'll be called _'John Shepard_ ', really, just that?" Kaidan questioned him, turning his attention away from the tray of food. "Lucas, do you know how many Johns are there on the Empire?"

"I _like_ the name," Shepard offered as justification. "Besides, it's not like _my_ kid is going to have _junior_ attached to his name."

Xavier added his own input, chuckling at the friendly banter. "Your parents should have chosen another name Kaidan, the patronymic will be _Kaidan Kaidanovich_ , that sounds just plain wrong."

"And you LT?" Shepard turned to Werner, who had almost finished his meal.

"I'd choose a very special and unique name, like… _Hans_ ," the blonde man replied.

The four men laughed, shaking their heads.

Werner quickly amended the statement, as they refocused on their meals. "No, really, I never paid much attention to what name I'd give my first son."

Their ship cruised through the Dirac Sea, breaching billions of kilometers of plasma inside an electromagnetic field made of exotic particles; outside of the Milky Way, of the Local Group, plucked outside of reality and travelling where man only travelled in dreams.

They had quickly replenished their torpedoes and anything else of any importance to their ship's running soon after their wild goose chase eluding the Vaerdall Space Forces, making a standard trip back to Kel'Shan, only to discover three Heavy Fleets were there already.

Now, they distanced themselves from the Galactic core, returning across the mostly empty interstellar void between galactic arms back to the Orion-Cygnus arm, what every human called home, and what the galaxy came to understand as the Empire.

All men stopped eating as soon as they spotted Cpt. Hill marching inside the mess hall.

The MID agent, now turned into a temporary naval officer, walked with ease while using the gray uniform, differing from the plain black ones wore by the ISF operatives.

He spared occasional glances and nods to the crew spread along the long metallic tables, until coming to a stop beside the four ISF operatives.

There was no salute, not out of disrespect, but rather at Hill's specific request, eschewing military rigor for the, at times, casual approach of intelligence operations; it did not come as a surprise, the ISF operated with the Armed Forces as much as it did with the FSB and MID.

"Mission briefing, as soon as we reach Sol." He said.

"What's the matter now?" Xavier questioned. "I thought we'd remain doing scouting and data gathering, occasionally beaming cyber attacks…"

"The mission of your lives, kids," Hill smiled, but it came off as simply eerie instead of natural. "If we fail, we all die spectacularly and go to afterlife as daring heroes, if we succeed, _damn_ …."

"I've never seen you actually _excited_ for something," Shepard said, turning his head to look at the man behind him.

"Just so you have an idea, I wanted to go down groundside with you, but it'll look good to my career all the same." Hill replied, actually taking a seat with the incomplete fireteam. "On yours too, not officially of course–"

"As we're not here, and this ship doesn't exist after all," Kaidan completed, drawing smirks from his companions.

" _Precisely_ , Alenko," Hill's smile became actually brighter. "You'll know more at the briefing, of course, but just so you know: it's important, multi-tiered, _and deadly_."

"Well, I'll leave you to your meal," with that, he got up and left, doing a 180 and returning through the same entrance he came.

Silence reigned for a few moments before the other crew members around the mess resumed their conversations and their meals, including the ISF team.

"Well, looks like we'll have to postpone our plans for having kids, at least until we finish this mission," Werner said, scooping up the last threads of spaghetti on his tray. "Or until the mission finishes us…"

"I just want shore leave on the Citadel. Still haven't explored the place, you can find almost every species of alien there." Xavier commented, lazily picking away at his own food.

" _Shut up_ ," Shepard joked, feigning outrage, attempting to lighten the mood. "You'll just blow your salary on asari hookers and booze; you're not fooling _anyone_ ,"

* * *

 _Citadel, Irissa's office._

" _We hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on, only when power was cut in the last few hours we knew something was wrong, and then we saw strange aircraft making their way through the capital, three to be exact_ ," the young asari spoke to the anchorwoman through their video feed. " _They were camouflaged in landscape colors, but all had their tricolor flag on their tails, I imagine that's a way of identifying the shipsl, like the turian talons_."

Irissa watched as the reporter on her flatscreen spoke about her own experiences; Tevos sat just below the screen on the sofa, content on simply listening, but staring directly at Irissa.

" _We only knew an invasion was going on after it was already over!_ "

" _So far, official sources by the government have stated that human ground forces remain on their positions, while salarian garrisons retreat to a more defensive stance further inside the continent."_ The image returned to the asari anchorwoman. " _The Vaerdall and Sesoln clan are reluctant to disclose further news on their own sources about the conflict, so we have to rely on civilian and unofficial sources, we'll continue to inform our viewers to the best of our abilities on the ongoing Third Salarian Civil War."_

"How have the turians responded?" Irissa looked down from the screen to Tevos's face.

"All turians campaigns on this endeavor are proceeding as they have always done so, methodical advance and capture of settlements," Tevos answered, returning Irissa's gaze. "Your humans have just bypassed or bombed them."

"To the mobilization call of a few Republican Navy squadrons for a standard colonial patrol, they remain watchful, nothing serious, no official contact either." The former Councilor continued. "Simply testing the waters."

" _In other news, another correspondent of ours, Amilla Edala, has prepared a special report today on her own world, Giwant, which has come under human assault as well_."

The image shifted from the asari anchor to a pavement highway in broad daylight, an asari in an outdoors suit stood in front of a red skycar by the sidelines of the road.

" _What you're seeing now are human armored elements making their way inside the countryside of Giwant's only settled continent_ ," the woman spoke as large vehicles rushed past in road-march formation behind her, coming towards the camera and disappearing behind their field of view, nearly shouting to be heard as the microphone also recorded the rushing tanks.

Further along, dozens of vehicles followed in their wake; they were painted in pixelated digital camouflage patterns, mixing greens, browns, and even beige occasionally, with their undersides and tracks covered in mud and dust.

" _As you can see, they have obviously engaged in combat, but so far none of the exposed crewmen have stopped to speak with our channel_ ," atop the turrets of the vehicles, the figures of humans stood out standing upright, half their bodies still inside the machines.

The young asari woman continued to speak: " _Some have obvious battle damage such as those kinetic penetrator marks on their frontal hulls or turrets, where the humans also use some kind of applique armor, others have damaged remote weapons systems, such as that machine gun you see atop their turrets,_ "

Some waved to the camera, others remained looking ahead or scanning the landscape with handheld devices, one of the more friendly ones waved a little black-white-gold tricolor flag at the camera.

They faces were hidden, and as the camera zoomed in, all that could be seen was the bridge of their noses and their eyes.

" _I stumbled upon them as I made my way back from another settlement on Giwant, as I checked my sources on the local government for information on the ongoing Civil War and the Hierarchy and Imperial involvement on them_." Amilla continued, motioning at the passing human column, and the passing vehicles, which now held anti-air tanks to their composition.

" _In my venture to the countryside, not only I found this human formation, but I also could record glimpses of their aerial vehicles as well,_ " the image shifted abruptly to a slightly shaky recording of camouflaged gunships dashing across the air, hugging the ground as they flew past, with the occasional voice over from the reporter: " _You're seeing that Els? Zoom in on their weapons_ ,"

The other individual did so, zooming into the extended cannon mounts, protruding out the nose of the aircraft, the image then reverted back to the asari anchorwoman at the end of the recording.

" _Amilla and her assistant Torlan Els have returned safely to their own residences after recording those images, but we still have no official information pertaining to the assault on salarian worlds by both turian and human forces_ ," the woman said. " _It is worth noting however, that Giwant is on the Scutum-Centaurus galactic arm, much like Janis, part of the planets directly under suzerainty of the Vaerdall clan; it is unclear how human forces have reached it, but it is a regional commerce hub, and important world to the clan_."

" _The ongoing peace-talks go on in their second day, and as of yet have yielded no result to a peaceful resolution to the conflict_ ," she continued, with the images being displayed changing again, and her voice narrating over images of the human cruiser docked on the Citadel. " _The presence of a human representative allays fear of a wider conflict, and show their disposition towards a better understanding and resolution of these delicate matters, our analysts say, but still, they see the situation as volatile, and the Third Salarian Civil War, in their words, 'is a bomb waiting to go off.'"_

" _We will return with more reports on the ongoing war at the last standard-day edition of our program, in other news-_ " Irissa shut down the flatscreen, with the display reverting to black.

"RIS reports that the rest of the Ten remain in peacetime mobilization at the orders of Erlana herself," Irissa said, turning her eyes to one of the displays on her personal terminal. "Hierarchy troops remain assisting the Vaerdall in their assaults on Sesoln infrastructure and planets, in pincer movement across the two relay pairs, of course, they are staging in space pertaining to other clans of the Ten, so while their support is not military in nature, they remain within Erlana's wing, at least for the time being."

"So far, all human troop landings have been restricted to worlds aligned to the Vaerdall proper, and not outliers; all of them a combination of air/ground strikes of elevated speed." She continued reading the report aloud to Tevos. "Naval engagements are widespread, Sesoln and Vaerdall-Hierarchy flotillas have engaged each other repeatedly in penetrations and counter-attacks, the Empire disrupts Vaerdall operations with most of their attacks originating from Kel'Shan, refraining from engaging Hierarchy ships wherever possible; long range missions."

"The political/military situation indicates that a counter-offensive is imminent." She released a deep sigh, leaning slightly back on her chair, hands resting on their laps. "If he were here this would be so much easier."

"You've grown exceptionally attached to him," Tevos said, typing in her omni-tool. "I'm ordering a tea, do you want anything?"

"Tea as well," Irissa answered. "The issue is not only that I'm attached to him, is that I don't know what personal matter he had to attend to in human space, and as such I can't know it's importance to him, and why he couldn't let it for another time when there's a goddess-damned war going on by their proverbial doorstep."

Tevos expression could be described as skeptic at best.

"Don't give me _that_ look," Irissa returned the stare.

"I know you since you've been accepted into the Diplomatic Service, don't play coy with me," Tevos replied, smirking. "But that's not for me to give judgment, I merely enjoy teasing you; we don't need him here, in any case, at least not now, the other man will do."

Irissa's expression softened, and she released a sigh. "He isn't planning to walk out of it, and Nassana is proving to be competent, I have read their transcripts."

"And the demands are?"

"Stupid: ' _hey can you please not invade me?_ '" Irissa mocked. "Worse yet, they continue reluctant to divulge that evidence of theirs, claiming sensitive material is within them; they know we don't fall for that, but that's the official line nonetheless."

An asari aide came inside the office with two steaming cups of tea atop a metallic tray, gleaming in silver, carefully serving both politicians.

"Thank you, dear," Tevos accepted the teacup in her hands, before turning her attention back to Irissa. "The turians have been played hard and went on with it, it's their fault entirely."

Irissa simply nodded in acknowledgement of the maid, placing her cup in her table, waiting for it to cool down. "Constantine is right, even if he and his father are just as crooked; this is a volus money-grab which materialized into a shooting war, you just have to check the damage reports: refineries, expensive machinery, material spent, and so on."

"Even if the turians lose hard, the defeat will spark an arms race, and the lost equipment will certainly need to be replaced, new weapons will be developed and put into mass production, new fleets will come online; the volus will profit no matter what." Tevos agreed.

"And so do we," Irissa completed. "The sooner they finish this, the sooner the Union suffers reforms, the sooner we can begin firming immigration pacts, commerce agreements, and eventually see humans gracing this station and asari space in mass."

"You have bonded with him have you not?"

"Yes," Irissa replied, taking a sip of the mild tea, before opening a teasing smirk herself. "I wonder who will be _your_ first human."

"Everything at its own pace," Tevos accepted Irissa's own teasing. "But I'm always open to recommendations."

Both asari sipped at their teas, before resuming their conversation.

"Do you really plan on making him Councilor?" Tevos asked.

"As you once said," Irissa began, setting the cup back at the desk. "Few are blessed by the Goddess, to be able to ally duty and pleasure."

* * *

 _Akart, relay pair to Faestok, Solus territory._

The systems and worlds belonging and under fealty to the Solus clan hadn't bore the same brunt of the combined Hierarchy-Vaerdall assaults, being delegated to a late stage objective due to their geo-political importance, and the geographic situation.

Isolated from the rest of the galaxy due to the cluster-like concentration of traversable star systems, the Solus had access to two primary relay pairs, one connecting Akart to Faestok, and another connecting Adirn to Dagnes, these pairs leading to the extensive series of secondary relays that connected the clan proper and its subordinates.

Faestok itself was at the very edge of Sesoln territory, a Vaerdall outpost, prepared just in case another war with the Sesoln broke out.

Now, in Akart, captured by the 190th Fleet in the very second engagement the Empire had with the Vaerdall Space Force, spaceships gathered for more war.

Cruisers, frigates, battleships, all huddled together in careful maneuver burns, assuming battle positions along the relay.

Beyond the 190th, the 127th, the 200th, and the vaunted 7th Heavy Fleet all readied themselves for the first trans-relay assault of the Imperial Navy.

The mass of ships aligned themselves, engineers checking automated damage control, FTL drives, electromagnetic shields, communications, gunners stood silent watching their digital displays eager to have targets to designate, praying for good luck.

Four Jupiter-class battleships were with them, silver spearheads of millions of tons of metal, but still dwarfed by the massive mass relays.

Abruptly, at the command of the flag ship for the ad-hoc formation, the AES _Colossus_ , the relay began to spin its inner ellipses, dark energy becoming visible at their convergence, until the constructs were a blur in their spin.

Spacetime cracked, and the hundreds of ships of Task Force Hydra disappeared from the continuum, only to reappear instantly across thousands and thousands of light-years.

* * *

 _Faestok, relay pair to Akart._

The fleets materialized themselves, emerging out of the physics-defying corridor, intermingling themselves to an alien formation.

" _All ships, weapons are free!_ " Admiral Oscar Speer ordered, his voice being broadcast to all human formations that had just arrived.

Ships stood still for few seconds, not separated by thousands of kilometers of empty space, but within visual identification range, tens of kilometers in between them.

Across the mass in intermingled human and salarian ships, gunners frantically set themselves to work.

The Vaerdall fleet awaited them since the opposite pair had been captured, and now the threat from beyond the dark had materialized into an Imperial task force.

Radar, ladar, tadar, even plain IRST identification provided fire solutions to the thousands of guns on both sides.

Slugs took to the void, leaving no room for evasion, in a test of guts and shield strength.

The salarian ships rolled along their aft-bow axis, laying their broadside mounts on their designated targets, sending timed waves of kinetic fire.

On the human ships, turret mounts swiveled across space, opening fire in multiple directions while their vessels remained stationary, engaging multiple targets from multiple vectors.

The multitude of laser pods, gamma and ultraviolet, already fired at their own tempos on both sides, carving away little by little into the shields of their targets while their systems vented excess heat as best as the machines could.

The kinetic penetrators either halted at bright white light when it struck a salarian ship, or splashed in millions of incandescent pieces when meeting a human ship.

The battleships refrained from utilizing their tachyon lances for the moment, quickly identifying the lack of enemy capital ships.

Javelin pods on the Vaerdall Space Force ships soon launched their payloads, sending literal thousands of disruptor torpedoes at their enemies.

IADS turrets on the human side of the battle answered the challenge automatically, and soon the battlespace was a true ant nest of hypervelocity slugs, as the 20mm railguns opened fire.

Not one minute had elapsed yet the battle took gargantuan proportions, the sky becoming a tapestry of red streams of fire and dashing dots of light carrying kilotons of kinetic energy.

Disruptor torpedoes exploded on the void, bathing many ships with debris that ricocheted off their shields, others found their target, given the infinitesimal interception time left for the defenders afforded by the knife-fight ranges.

Mass effect fields warped space in rapidly shifting configurations, draining shields of energy with every impact.

Still, the battle was futile; the numerical gap was tremendous, as the VSF contingent was a small cruiser detachment, placed there simply to evaluate enemy strength and report back to the main formation.

The aquatic-looking vessels were already facing their retreat vector, and it was only a matter of powering their Eezo cores and engines.

Blue stars trailing fire suddenly shot across the sights of the human crewmembers, quick to appear and disappear.

There was no cheer yet on either side, none had claimed kills, and the Imperial officers understood the scouting tactic perfectly.

The mass of human ships soon organized themselves, extending their tadar sweeps, soon distinguishing the reorganizing mass of ships on the other relay pair inside the system.

8 AU laterally from the Akart-Faestok pair, there stood the first step connecting the Sesoln and Solus galactic spurs, themselves offshoots of the Sagittarius arm, to the main Scutum-Centaurus arm; the first step to Sur'Kesh itself.

Common sub-light travel at that distance, whether an Imperial or Citadel-based vessel, was out of any question.

The fleets aligned themselves, signals and communications were sent to all directions, as both forces relayed their situation to their respective commands, burning and spacing themselves to proper battle positions.

The human fleets breached the fabric of space, generating singularities within and outside themselves, accelerating and dashing across the Dirac Sea.

They reappeared at roughly two light-seconds of their adversaries, breaching the same singularities they generated, even before the light and radiation generated by their departure reached the sensors and eyes of the aliens, yet the sudden surge of mass undergoing FTL travel spurred the bleeding-edge technology on the salarian ships.

Both fleets readied their systems, preparing themselves for the confrontation.

It was time.

* * *

Admiral Oscar Speer observed the battlespace projection in front of him with care, studying the tridimensional representations of his enemies.

The CIC remained dark ever since they entered the mass corridor for the first time, and had remained so when they performed the intrasystem jump.

So far, the salarians had reacted as predicted: a scouting force on the first relay, then a larger true battle line on the second one, bolstered by turian ships.

Tadar scans showed more ships coming and going and buzzing around the system's sole station; a large fuel and supply station orbiting the only planet in orbit of the primary.

Military ships, civilian ones, and troop transports as well, but if his gut was right, and ONI's assessments as well, they would abstain from combat.

The four battleships of the 7th Heavy Fleet extended their tadar sweeps to maximum range, as the systems worked full time discriminating between asteroids and the assorted rock from real space contacts across light years of space.

The escorts on the other hand focused their sensors entirely on the ships in 'front' of them, saving every terabyte of processing power.

As soon as the data was available, the reports began to fill in:

" _Sir, over five hundred vessels and counting on the system, this place is buzzing with activity_." One officer said from below the crew pits, hands flying across his displays. " _There are 240 Digeris-class cruisers, 78 Maxiana-class frigates, along with two Palaven-class capitals; there are 250 Saradril-class cruisers, 46 Dragel-class frigates spread through the system, and…"_ the man swallowed _. "…eight Pranas-class dreadnoughts, positioned for engagement_."

" _Fleet is dumping heat through ceramic strips, lithium-sodium tanks ready for droplet cycling, relay jump generated no additional heat, and our earlier engagement was too brief for any lasting effect_."

" _All_ _ships report no malfunctions, as of yet_."

" _Communication is frantic; fleet has assumed standard ECM procedures, switching from radio to t-link integration_."

" _The enemy remains stationary relative to us, no signs of acceleration_."

"Colossus _and_ Hyperia _, lock tachyon lances on the_ _HSV_ Desperax _and_ _HSV_ Hostis _, respectively_." Speer ordered, speaking on their internal channel. " _Let's show them how far lightning can truly reach_."

" _Aye-aye!_ "

A few seconds passed, as gun pods aligned themselves to the cosmos tapestry, focusing on distant points of light.

" _Weapons room reports it's ready to fire, Hyperia ready as well_."

Speer spared a glance at the holographic display of the ships in question, and then ordered. " _Fire_ ,"

Without warning, beams of incandescent green light, made of exotic wave-particles, shot across space at twice the speed of light; in a single second, they arrived at their targets, transferring dozens of petajoules worth of energy to the spaceships they focused on.

The dreadnoughts erupted in plasma and white-hot debris at hypervelocity, taking their crews with them instantly.

" _Splash two_ ," one officer reported. " _40 minutes until lance heat can be dissipated_."

" _Thanix-armed dreadnoughts are out of the way_ ," Speer said. " _The_ Washington _and the_ Hermes _are to conserve their own shots."_

" _And…they have begun, enemy ships are engaging into a meeting trajectory, merge in…roughly one hour_."

Hundreds of thousands of kilometers away from them, the alien spacecraft fired powerful fusion torches, injecting anti-proton particles in their reaction chambers, burning with extra power.

" _All fleets, interception burn, maintain formation with capitals_."

In order not to distance themselves ahead of the sluggish battleships, the escorts adjusted their respective burns to match the acceleration by the capital ships, activating their own fusion engines.

" _Merge time reduced to fifty minutes…Jesus we are slow_."

The comment managed to elicit a chuckle out of the tense CIC, even as men focused on their tasks, and Speer could see a few men shaking their heads, helmets illuminated by their own displays.

Constructs of metal and polymer, armored with the finest alloys their nations could produce, crewed by the best of their peoples, dashed across the eternally dark sky to meet each other in combat.

It was dispassionately brutal, fast and slow at the same time, and detached from the brutality of its consequences all the while.

Traded punches and sword slashes were replaced by digital and haptic displays, nothing more than a game of electrical currents flowing through integrated circuits.

Exhaust plumes reached many kilometers back from their origin points, and to the naked eye the ships would appear as nothing more than placid ice comets, dancing around a hot sun, sparkling with their own boiling water.

" _Request WR for kill probability on multiple torpedo scenarios, discriminate between salarian and turian ships_." Speer ordered.

" _Aye-aye, sir!_ " The officer responsible for communication with the secondary command center acknowledged the order.

Not long after, the data came back, digested for interpretation.

" _Salarian ships would serve as passive GARDIAN screen even if we targeted only the turian ships, due to their lack of EM shielding_." The same officer replied. " _But they report we have enough Sunburns to kill the turian squadron many times over; we could focus fire on two of the salarian dreadnoughts with some effect, however, if we prioritized fire on them there would be enough munitions to bring their shields down and then achieve at least mission-kill_."

The man continued his report: " _If we focused on the salarian cruisers instead, we'd able to satisfactorily engage between a hundred and a hundred and twenty five of them, but spending all torpedoes; that's over thirty thousand missiles_."

Speer considered, as he examined the data on his own terminal, eyes darting between the digital screen and the holographic display.

" _Order the_ Washington _and_ Hermes _to take another two dreadnoughts down, tachyon lance them, targets at their discretion_."

The scene repeated itself, another two dreadnoughts vanishing from existence in energy and fire, in the wake of unstoppable energy.

" _Splash four_ ,"

" _Enemy remains on current trajectory, no change in acceleration…maybe losing their entire fleet will make them break_."

" _SOP change, fleet-wide_ ," Speer broke through the reports with his own voice. " _Railgun fire will be partially free, no further than 200K, gamma laser at functional range, all ships hold torpedo fire_."

Communication beams fired and died constantly across the fleet, as ships exchanged information with each other, and soon his orders were relayed across the armada.

" _Merge in forty minutes, 480K to enemy fleet_."

" _Thirty minutes until lances cool down_."

" _Tell the 190_ _th_ _and 200_ _th_ _they are to detach laterally, give them the impression you'll bypass the encounter and head straight for the relay, diversionary maneuver, the enemy will separate and be forced to intercept, adjust acceleration as you see fit_." Speer ordered. " _127_ _th_ _and the 7_ _th_ _itself are to remain on course_."

" _Aye-aye!_ "

The mass of ships split in three, one larger central constellation, and two flanking ones, burning in different trajectories, set to bypass the engagement completely at their current course.

" _Enemy is matching maneuvers, detaching formations as well_."

" _Flank elements are to continue on these trajectories_ ," Speer ordered immediately. " _Give me a specific report on the composition of their detachments_."

" _It appears they divided the ships by nation, Hierarchy ships are flanking, Vaerdall ships and dreadnoughts remain in interception with us_."

Joy erupted in Speer's heart at the news, as his mind travelled to the future minutes, departing the here and now.

Time passed, with ever constant output from the engines of both sides, as they mirrored each other's actions, the second relay being the focal point of their ballet.

" _Thirty minutes to merge_ ," the same officer reported.

" _Distance between flank formations?_ " Speer questioned.

" _32K laterally between our detachments, 64K between enemy and theirs_ ," the young boy answered.

" _The enemy will never retreat, never_ ," Speer began one of his monologues. " _This is a direct line to Annos Basin, to Sur'Kesh; they committed a grave tactical mistake, this detachment of their own forces only stretched their GARDIAN, and the salarian one is better, much better than the infrared ones_."

" _The turian detachments are now at the edge of the UV bubble, and they do not have the EM shielding_ ," Speer shook his head. " _They are dead, poor bastards; they just don't know it yet_."

" _Better yet, they keep charging_ ," Speer laughed now. " _So by the time we merge we'll have fired another salvo with the lances_."

" _Sir,_ " one officer spoke directly to him. " _WR is questioning whether we will fire torpedoes now_."

Speer smiled; LCDR Pélissier had figured out the maneuver as well, the young man would go far indeed.

" _Not yet_ ," he replied.

Satisfied with the state of affairs, Speer returned to watch the holographic representation of the ships racing to meet each other, the minutes being left behind.

" _300K to merge, 25 minutes_ ,"

" _Fifteen_ _minutes until lance cool down_ ,"

" _Enemy turian cruisers have began long range kinetic fire_ ,"

" _They_ _are now completely apart, outside of each other's GARDIAN bubbles, sir_."

" _I bet they feel so confident right now, that they'll meet outnumbered enemies and slaughter them_ ," Speer mused out loud on the channel. " _Order the 190_ _th_ _and 200_ _th_ _to fire thirty five munitions for every cruiser on their opposing forces, wipe them of my display_."

The communications officers quickly complied, speaking with their counterparts on the flagships of the flanking fleets.

In ripple waves of timed fire, thousands of missiles took to space, breaching clouds of propellant gas as they left their launching tubes, aligning themselves at their targets with mechanical and electronic precision, following precise paths obeying fire solutions.

Metallic-hydrogen was ignited on the lithe but potent engines, propelling the missiles forward with a sudden jolt, arrows made light fired across a blackened battlefield.

The turians took a few moments to react, ships performing erratic maneuvers and abandoning their kinetic salvos at their enemies, cruisers and frigates dancing through the cosmos, fighting against machines bent on killing other machines they happened to be manning.

" _Seven minutes until impact, all torpedoes responding positively to semi-active guidance_."

" _Salarian fleet has somehow increased acceleration; it seems their ships are faster than even the turian ones…merge with central formation in…twenty two minutes_."

As guided missiles dashed across space, as early harassment slugs flew past their targets, ships suddenly bent the laws of physics.

Blue shifted stars leapt forward for brief light-lagged moments, a daring maneuver of combat FTL use, and the salarian fleet reappeared much closer to the human one, already realigning their bows.

" _Enemy fleet has jumped!_ " the young officer exclaimed. " _70K of relative distance, we will merge in five minutes!_ "

" _Genius_ ," Speer whispered to himself, eyes focused on his projection. " _Seized the initiative and changed the tactical battlespace, and now tries to delay my advance_."

" _All ships weapons free, weapons free, overwhelming torpedo allocation on enemy cruisers,_ " The Admiral ordered, not wasting time. " _Battleships focus railgun and laser fire on enemy dreadnoughts!_ "

In the few seconds that followed, the empty void became a chaotic collection of ultraviolet and gamma laser beams, with metallic projectiles flying at thousands of kilometers per second, torpedoes taking flight, shields flaring to life as they deflected deadly harm.

" _One minute until our wave hits, they're already being intercepted!_ "

" _Enemy capitals are releasing small craft!_ "

" _Kinetic artillery fire detected!_ "

Amid the frantic reports by his crew, Speer watched as tens of thousands of missiles rushed to meet their targets, a constellation of death.

Second after second another round was fired, another missile took flight, another salarian drone raced to deliver their own payload.

Cruisers and frigates began exchanging thousands of slugs, splashing against each other's shields, draining them of energy even as they constantly evaded, and turrets swiveling to maintain focus on their targets.

The enemy dreadnoughts, with shields powerful enough to rival the human battleships, eschewed any defensive maneuver, and fired constantly with their spinal cannons, delivering rounds with irresistible force.

" _Thirty seconds to impact! Seekers are tracking!_ "

Speer remained focused on the mass of projectiles displayed ahead of him, with the results out of his hands entirely.

Salarian ships were unlike any other in Citadel space: resilient EM shields, the fastest engines, the best damage control, the best point defense, the ones with the best sensors, and perhaps the best crewed.

Even if they were not monsters of firepower as the Thanix-armed turians ships were, or all-round fighting machines like the Republican Navy, they were a force to be reckoned in their own might.

Deep respect found its way to his core, as he considered the commander on the other side, separated by thousands of kilometers of void and barriers of energy and metal.

UV beams cut through the endless tide of missiles with efficiency, piercing reflective material and bypassing terminal maneuvers, dozens upon dozens of torpedoes lit the void as they died; but there was only so much the UV GARDIANs could defend.

The cruisers began to feel the impacts, dozens of warheads detonating of their electromagnetic shields at a time, draining them of their energy levels, with hundreds of torpedoes being allocated to individual targets, both to overwhelm their powerful shields and saturate their point defense.

Many couldn't resist the onslaught, shields failing, point defense overheating; Sunburn torpedoes pierced armor and hull, detonating inside the bulkheads in deadly spall and fireballs.

Internal atmosphere ignited, vital components and crew areas were riddled with thousands of small pieces of hypervelocity metal, fuel tanks were ruptured, boosters destroyed.

Dozens of ships began to erupt or stop moving, mangled messes of metal and composite material, hydrogen venting into space along with internal atmosphere, as escape pods left their hulls.

" _67 enemy ships destroyed, the fleet shows no signs of retreating_."

" _Flanking fleets appear to continue evasion of the torpedoes from the 190_ _th_ _and 200_ _th_ _, six minutes for secondary impact_."

" _There, the disconnection between doctrines and commanders._ " Speer said. " _This right here is the gap between initiatives, between talents, even between systems_."

" _As soon as the now secondary wave hits, order the detached fleets to burn in interception for the salarian fleet_." The admiral ordered. " _They are to fire flanking shots as well, align as needed_."

"Aye-aye!"

The order was relayed, and amid the organized chaos, the ships from the flanking human fleets rolled on their axis, releasing their own kinetic salvos at the central engagement, turrets aligning to fire even as their ships maintained orientation.

" _Enemy fleet is detaching again!_ " One office suddenly reported, bringing Speer's attention out of the holographic display. " _60…70…83 ships detaching in vertical maneuver relative to merge, will arc above our fleet_."

The salarian ships did their own spins, escaping out of the meeting trajectory for one that would eventually lead them above the battlespace, aligning their broadsides with the human ships as they 'climbed' in tridimensional void.

" _Enemy using broadside cannons, their fire volume has increased_."

" _Now this is quick reaction_ ," Speer said. " _A valiant effort, but useless_ ,"

And Speer was right, even if their broadsides were more powerful than the standard human railguns, which they were not, it would not even out the sheer volume of fire focused on their fleets.

Thousands of disruptor torpedoes were released by the mass of drones that dashed in between the human ships, slamming against invisible walls of force in shifting mass effect fields, IADS turrets killing missiles and drones alike.

One by one, alien ships gave in to the focused assault, shields flaring white before failing.

Lasers pierced and melted bulkheads, destroyed components, flooded living spaces with deadly radiation, kinetic artillery rounds pierced and flattened as they traversed their targets, carrying in their wake spall and their own fragmented pieces.

Dreadnoughts abandoned their spinal bombardment and added their own broadsides to the fight, maneuvering in multiple different axes, focusing on one ship at a time.

Even holding extremely powerful shields, born out of alien and human technology, the Crusader-class cruisers couldn't last forever, especially facing the focused fire of the six remaining dreadnoughts.

Waves of hundreds of slugs each carrying 22Kt of kinetic energy slammed against single ships and their Universal Defensive Shields failed, one by one against the coordinated fire, even as the salarian battle line broke.

The salarian defenders would go down, but they would go down fighting, and they'd make sure their enemy wouldn't win unscathed.

Cruisers were riddled with enemy fire, and even as many died, many flew off in escape pods; abandoning their crippled or destroyed ships.

Fusion engines vented or outright exploded, and unlucky ships had their hypermatter power plants struck, vanishing in flashes of light.

" _Multiple enemies destroyed, enemy dreadnought_ _VSF_ Faralani _is taking heavy fire_."

The minutes had passed, and the fleets had merged, and now all semblance of organized formation abandoned them.

Ships danced around each other in multiple trajectories, as the maneuvered both to try to evade enemy fire and to intercept their targets.

"Argus _and_ Mark Fletcher _are dead in space, weapons are operational,_ _the_ John Sutton, Perseus, Trajan, Darius, _and_ Pegasus _are destroyed, escape pods have been released;_ Corsair, Santiago Torres, _and_ Lysander _have suffered catastrophic damage, all hands lost."_

" _A cruiser from the 127_ _th_ _,_ _the_ Mark Vanderloo, _just scored its fifth space-to-space kill._ "

" _All Battleships report lances are operational again, awaiting orders_ ,"

" _One minute until torpedo wave hits turian ships_."

" _Singularity drives ready for jump fleet-wide_ ,"

" _Fire_ ," Speer declared.

In a green flash, VSF _Zaerixa_ , VSF _Aeralana_ , VSF _Ezala_ , and VSF _Zihei_ , powerful dreadnoughts named after equally powerful Dalatrasses of salarian and Vaerdall history, ceased to exist as space combatants, and remained as debris.

" _Thirty seconds to impact on turian ships!_ "

At this time, infrared beams appeared and died, taking torpedoes with them every time they died.

The crews of the turian detachments now paid the price of their commander's decision, few torpedoes overloading their kinetic barriers, even fewer turning them into slag.

A combination of factors added to their demise; the rigidness and inflexibility of turian officers, the qualitative gap between systems and doctrines, and the speed of the missiles, the infinitesimal variables that dictated life and death when electronic systems clashed with one another.

Hundreds of flashes of light appeared on the flanks of the main human-salarian engagements, as scores of ships were struck by an overwhelming quantity of anti-ship missiles.

" _Multiple targets destroyed!_ " Speer heard the report, as he zoomed out of the immediate engagement on the holo projection to see the Sunburn missiles impact their targets and vanish from their systems together with the ships.

" _Remaining frigates are breaking off; heading for the relay, the enemy fleet is combat-ineffective!_ "

" _Break pursuit, the 190_ _th_ _and 200_ _th_ _are to converge back into main formation and engage surviving salarian ships_ ," Speer ordered. " _Time to finish this_ ,"

* * *

 _Mars, Campus Martius._

"Comrade Admiral, the 7th Heavy Fleet reports that they now control both ends of the Akart-Faestok relay pair, and the first relay between the Faestok-Annos Basin pair."

"And our losses?" Bouchard quickly turned his attention to the young man, as the VR contact lenses indicated who spoke.

The admiral rose, straightening out his gray uniform and walked towards the technician, looking over his shoulder to his terminal.

The C3 center was as always dark, with light coming if someone opened the bunker door to the other areas of the building, or faintly from the terminals and holographic projections.

"Twenty three cruisers destroyed, thirteen are combat-ineffective, eleven frigates have been destroyed and three are combat-ineffective, survivors have already been collected, and all enemy escape pods have been allowed to return to Sur'Kesh through the relay as per SOP." The same young man replied. "The brunt of the losses fell on the 7th and 127th, the 200th and 190th are intact, they are requesting immediate replenishment and reinforcement."

"On the enemy side, 240 turian cruisers have been destroyed or disabled, 34 frigates, and two Palaven-class dreadnoughts have been destroyed as well, along with 250 salarian cruisers, and eight dreadnoughts, the salarians ships fought to the last vessel," the officer finished reading the report. "A high number of enemy frigates still remain in-system sir, but they're outside combat range."

" _Excellent_ ," Bouchard declared, giving the young man a tap on his shoulder. "Nowit remains to see if they will take the bait."

"Order all reserve fleets still in in-between the arms to head to Faestok, seize the fuel depot there, evict all remaining enemy ships, I don't want them gathering intelligence." Bouchard walked back to his own seat, returning his sight to the holographic display as he typed a few commands on his own terminal.

* * *

 _AES_ Hercules _, Faestok._

"How many did you get, Steven?" Lt. Jószef questioned, removing his helmet as light came back to the Weapons Room of the AES _Hercules._

Hackett removed his own, running a gloved hand through his short brown hair. "Two cruisers and I took some shots at the _Mizali_ as well before it died, but the kill went to the _Colossus_."

" _Come on men, we're done for the moment, go grab a bite_ ," LCDR Lassen spoke, helmet broadcasting his voice through the compartment. " _Don't take your suits off_."

"Fucking glory hounds," Jószef joked, standing up from his chair, having released the acceleration belts on his chest. "I got two frigates and a cruiser, HSV _Sidovia_ and HSV _Casna_ , and the cruiser was the VSF _Heranon_."

Hackett followed Jószef quickly behind out of the WR, entering the guts of the spaceship, walking through corridors and stairs. "You actually remembered the names?"

"Of course," Jószef answered as if it was obvious. "I want to know who I killed, it is history; we're imprinted in time forever now, Steven."

"I didn't even pay attention to their names…" Hackett said. "Do you think the system logs it?"

"So there _is_ something you don't know about spaceships after all!" The other gunner teased.

"I'm being serious," Hackett pressed on.

"Why don't you check? I'll save your seat–" Before he could finish speaking, Hackett had already dashed back to his terminal, making his way back to the terminal.

He sat, typing furiously on the keyboard, eyes fixed on the display.

' _There!_ ' He thought in relief, engraving the names of the ships on memory, including the one he had shot down on their first engagement.

He walked back slowly to the mess hall, relieved, walking through the same corridors, and spotting Jószef already digging into his tray, accompanied by his fellow crewmen along the metal tables.

Later on, when he was eating his own food, they'd hear the news: Admiral Bouchard was ordering all fleets that were not engaged in combat ops to their system; they were ' _going to kick some serious ass,_ ' in the words of the CIC.

As the news sounded through the mess, and his fellow crewmen shouted exclamations of victory, cheered on events outside their power, some even standing and punching the air above in their heads, still high from combat.

Hackett sat on the metal bench, fork still in hand, with a piece of lasagna spiked, attempting to process the information, recalling star maps, the relay network overlaid over the galaxy, the clusters of settled systems and the ones that enabled Eezo-based FTL.

"We're assaulting Sur'Kesh…" he muttered to himself, eating the half-forgotten piece of pasta, washing it down with the recycled water on the plastic cup, registering the moment before him.

* * *

 **A/N:** That's it, another one, hope you all enjoyed, thanks for reading. Also, leave a review telling me your thoughts.


	24. Smoke Curtain

**A/N:** Another day, another chapter. I hope you enjoy it, albeit this one is smaller than usual.

This was edited by **Xabiar**.

* * *

 _Imperial Palace, Terra._

Ferdinand looked at a painting, in-between detachment and attention showing on his face, sitting beside Jack on the small cushioned bench as his companion smoked another cigarette.

They had left the bunker for the moment, as the situation did not require their immediate oversight, and Jack had found rare spot in his schedule; they had discarded jackets, loosened ties, and rolled up sleeves.

In front of them, the photorealistic painting depicted Thomas Harper and Giorgio Valeri standing next to each other: wrinkles around their eyes, grey hair and beards, softening bodies, and yet their eyes retained the spark of their youth, even through the ink and canvas.

They were both serious as men of their position could be, but Giorgio did not wear his dress uniform, neither Thomas had his suit; they wore casual clothing, if only fitting for men of their age.

Behind them there was stone brick wall, common to manors spread through old Britain, with a fireplace carved on the wall, large and reaching high.

It was one of many paintings in the hall, one of many moments recorded and preserved across time.

"So, you're really going through with it," Ferdinand stated idly.

"Yes," Jack replied after a pause, smoke escaping from his nostrils. "I can do much more there; _we_ will be able to do much more,"

"We will be unbidden," he went on. "Cerberus will reach where the Empire can't."

"And the cybernetics?" Ferdinand questioned. "Are they really necessary?"

"Not necessary, but it is something I've been thinking about for quite some time now," Jack said. "With the facial reconstruction, I might as well get them. I'll preserve the originals - just in case."

"Andromeda will miss you, Marcel too; well, only until he learns the truth." Ferdinand said, clearly fighting a losing battle.

" _They_ left things behind too," Jack pointed to the painting in front of them. "They abandoned dreams, futures; Thomas abandoned a life full of material pleasure while Giorgio abandoned the love of his life."

"Severing those connections enabled them to focus completely on what had to be done, yet _we_ know for sure they remembered it for the rest of their lives," Jack continued, drawing smoke from the cigarette once more. "But by doing so, they changed the course of human history, and for the first time there was a single hegemonic power on the globe."

"World government," Ferdinand mused, releasing a deep sigh. "I know. Still, never seeing you again will be…"

"On the other side, we'll meet beyond the here and now," Jack said. "But in the present, mankind needs me, it needs you and Constantine, it needs Marcel and many others."

"Their legacy is self-sacrifice, intrepidness, ingenuity." He looked to the side, moving his gaze away from the painting and towards Ferdinand. "We must carry that on."

Ferdinand fell silent, and returned to look at the painting before them.

Suddenly, he chuckled: "Ironically, it'll be as it once was: a Harper moving in the shadows, while a Valeri stays in broad daylight."

Jack nodded in agreement, puffing out smoke. "And everyone in their path ends up dead."

* * *

 _Sur'Kesh._

"Don't you understand?! If we do not re-capture this relay pair, half of the spirits-damned theater will be cut off!" Desolas exclaimed, smashing his fist on the console as he spoke to the holographic representation of Erlana. "It means they'll have to gather anti-protons from the handful of intact stations inside the occupied systems, it means that any damaged ship won't be towed back for repairs, it means that if we don't capture this relay pair they'll have a direct and instantaneous strike vector to this very same planet!"

"Either you halt all offensives against the Sesoln and refocus on securing this line, or else you can expect the complete and utter failure of this operation," he continued, with the rest of the command center silent. "Our actions in this are limited; I was not granted the ground and naval power to fight your war for you, this wasn't the goal of our presence here - you know that very well, and don't harbor hopes of reinforcements, the Hierarchy won't dump troops into a useless meat grinder."

The Dalatrass eyed him for long moments, blinking upwards, before speaking. " _Very well, you have my waver. Halt the scheduled operations for the moment, focus on evicting human forces from Faestok. I will commit all my reserves to the cluster_."

Desolas refrained from releasing a sigh, and only nodded, as the projection faded and died.

He then stood from his chair, collecting his flask of water, returning to stalk the rows of technicians.

Ever since the forces present on the relay pair had been either routed or destroyed, and the fuel depot seized by Imperial marines, intelligence was scarce; what Desolas knew was that the enemy had substantial forces on the area, and in all likelihood were reinforcing it as he paced on the command center.

So far, they identified sixteen enemy dreadnought-sized vessels in the operational theater, the latest four emerging in the trans-relay assault, and a substantial number of escorts, all engaging in actions similar to their Sesoln allies: shipping disruption, destroying captured space stations and other infrastructure, and general harassment.

Yet they only struck when Vaerdall forces were also present, avoiding direct action against turian forces.

' _They expect me to shoot first_ ,' He thought, mandibles moving in pensiveness. ' _They await a solid justification, a conclusion to this brinkmanship_.'

And so far Desolas had returned the 'courtesy', and he wondered if his human counterpart, or counterparts, also feared the consequences of direct confrontation; the prelude of an undeclared war.

' _But why? What is their endgame?_ ' he mused, crossing his arms as he walked.

Another of his concerns was the Vaerdall owned worlds as well, who were now under the shadow of invasion.

Given the pre-conflict control of relay pairs connecting Sesoln and Vaerdall space, those vassal planets were thought safe from retaliation; a simple geographical observation.

Yet, now Janis, Gorot II, Giwant, Velorm's Jewel, and others had bore the brunt of the human counterstroke, and had their resolves broken. Their relative safety now played in their demise, with unprepared local forces being devastated in the first strikes.

His troops made their own assaults on Sesoln worlds, with varying degrees of success and speed, and the earlier questions returned to the forefront of his mind, and he mulled over them once again, searching for an answer he couldn't possibly find.

Sleep also eluded him over the past few days, one of the many 'perks' of command.

He returned to his command post, refreshing himself through the water bottle, calling up the haptic display.

The Salarian Union came to full display to him, with his fleets and operations overlaid in between spots of light and highlighted names, millions of men and women reduced to geometric symbols and polygons.

He typed a few commands, and the display focused on Faestok, now overlaid in a red hexagon, displaying that it was in hostile control; up close, the holograph displayed all known enemy forces in-system in a small list beside the hexagon itself.

Would he begin something greater than the current conflict?

Would the humans send further reinforcements of their own, in addition to the unknown number of forces in total? Would they be the ones to commit to all out warfare over a mere geopolitical struggle?

Neither the Hierarchy nor the Empire faced existential threat after all; in Desolas's mind there was no reason for reckless escalation of what by all means was a proxy-conflict.

He took another swill of water, and returned to pace around his technicians and staff officers, his mind travelling light years beyond his location, picturing faceless enemies in foreign stars.

Alien intellects, vast and as-of-yet unknowable, directed their fleets against him, and he found himself open to attack, caught in between the expectations of his superiors and subordinates, grasping at the enemy only when he chose materialize, only to slip away.

Had High Command committed an error in calculation; a misjudgment of the human reaction?

The answer was a resounding ' _yes_ ' to him, but would they err again, and spark a war of proportions not seen since the Rebellions?

Desolas refocused on the here and now; he would receive all the answers he needed in the following days.

Everything beyond his forces and the enemy's was out of the scope of rational analysis to him now, and consequently out of his immediate reach.

Above all else, he had to do his duty.

* * *

 _Pluto, Sol._

Heat was scarce, billions of kilometers away from Sol itself; the inverse-square law doomed the dwarf planet to an eternal limbo devoid of life.

Structures of metal, ceramic, and polymer were sprawled across the surface of the rock, connected to one another, as the cold sunlight and high albedo made them shine as much as the surface of the celestial body itself.

Outside the controlled environment, automated robots tended to the _Intruder_ , utilizing the low surface gravity to their benefit, performing precision jumps as they repaired and analyzed the exterior of the black frigate.

But inside, the briefing room was similar to the rest of the complex, metal walls and metal benches and furniture, the definition of prefab; still, to ease the amount of light reaching the eyes of the occupants, the walls were painted in dull gray.

Soldiers shuffled in their seats, re-checking their black uniforms for anything out of place, and speaking to each other in low voices, in order not to cause a ruckus.

Hill, Werner, and Sgt. Falkner stood in front of the mass of ISF operatives, hands behind their backs eyeing the entrance for their guest.

"Attention!" Werner suddenly called out, with all operatives ceasing their chatter and standing up in rows, saluting while staring straight forward.

Quickly, Constantine walked inside the room, past the soldiers, moving to stand at the front while the officers gave their most crisp salutes.

Forgoing the suits, Constantine donned the Army Green, with his qualification ribbons and the Army Aviator badge as well.

"At ease," he ordered, and the men settled back into their drill form. "I'll be quick; you may sit down."

Constantine moved to operate the projector interface, lowering the lighting in the room, while the other three officers moved to stand near the walls, out of the way of the display.

"As is known, Object 889 is a prototype stealth frigate utilized for reconnaissance, cyberwarfare, and deep strike." Constantine spoke as the system came to life on the wall behind him, the GUI a simple dark blue screen with series of digital icons. "As you are aware as well, we are currently engaged in a mid-intensity conflict with Hierarchy and Salarian Union forces in our intervention on their civil war; you are here today because we are going to finish this war."

"This is Sesoln Cinis;" Constantine typed in the tablet, and the image of the salarian female came to life. "She is the heir apparent to the Sesoln clan, and eldest daughter of Dalatrass Nizen; she has maintained contact with an MID asset for the past month."

A short pause was allowed to ensure everyone heard clearly. "Our mission is to penetrate Kel'Shan, infiltrate their capital city and royal palace, and, with the help of friendly STG elements, assassinate Dalatrass Nizen, thus establishing Cinis in power."

Many widened their eyes in surprise, but the soldiers refrained from displaying any other emotion or asking questions.

"This platoon is going to be reinforced by nine Royal Guard operatives, in a three squad formation," Constantine went on. "The reason for that addition is that I'll be on the ship while you're groundside, and I plan to utilize them to their maximum potential."

"Are there any questions about the general nature of the mission?" Constantine said naturally, as if the weight of the reveal was lost on him.

"Sir, _um_ ," Xavier slowly raised his hand in the air, all eyes turning to him in the darkness. "I have the _utmost respect_ for you and the fact that you'll be with us, but, huh, is it _really_ necessary?"

"Due to a series of factors, _yes_ , it is." Constantine answered. "The moment we shoot Nizen, the military aspect of our mission will be over, and then begins the political one."

"Do not be mistaken, the words I will have to speak with Cinis once her mother is dead will be essential to the resolution of the war," the Prince went on. "Beyond the fleets that now gather for a series of violent and decisive battles, we will have our own shadow battles to fight."

"The general geopolitical actions are out of the need-to-know aspect of the missions assigned to this ship and your detachment," he stated. "But if you need to have a grasp of why are we attacking the ruler of a friendly nation: that nation isn't friendly, but it _will_ be."

"I understand your concerns about my safety while we are there." Constantine eyed the room, eyes sweeping through their faces. "But I haven't earned this uniform simply through my name, as I'm sure you're aware as well; these weren't the principles our nation was built on."

And it was true; while Constantine wasn't a proper ISF operative, military service was mandatory for any member of the royal family since the early years of the Empire, stemming from Giorgio's position in NATO.

"Whatever the fate of this mission, it will be mine as well."

The response was as Constantine expected as well: the men simply nodded, others opened small smirks, but all had a certain fire in their eyes.

"What about extraction?" This time, Shepard spoke.

"Much like the two phases of this operation hinge on the assassination, once we complete the first phase we'll be automatically in friendly territory once again, as Cinis will be in power thereafter." Constantine turned towards the man. "Failure is not an option; but should we fail, there will still be one of our own strike fleets above the planet under the cover of our military assistance; they will provide a distraction for your and consequently our escape, while also _ensuring_ we succeed the mission."

"Now," Constantine said, calling up another projection. "Onto the specifics…"

* * *

 _Kithoi Ward, Citadel._

"I can't believe you live in Kithoi." Mayrithia commented, looking outside the translucent wall at the Citadel at large, the five Wards expanding forward, reaching towards the nebula.

"It's a nice place isn't it?" Nyava replied, pride in her voice as she accepted the compliment, while pouring two glasses of Serrice Ice Brandy. "It's expensive, but worth every credit."

And the apartment was indeed well located and designed: two floors with an open spiraling staircase leading into two bedrooms, one being converted into an office of sorts, while the other was Nyava's bedroom.

A wide living room with a bar connected to a dining room and kitchen; expensive furniture and décor, funded in large part by her secondary deals.

"So, about what we spoke earlier…" Mayrithia eyed Nyava, who enjoyed her own drink. "What do you think I should do?"

"Do you like him?" Nyava questioned.

"I mean, I do." The younger Commando looked away, back to the nebula. "But does _he_? Do I rush headfirst into this?"

"How do I even breach the subject with him?" Mayrithia returned to sit across from Nyava, accepting one cup from the small center table.

"Well, he seemed to be receptive of the parting kiss you gave him," the Spectre said. "Although I _must_ say it was far too timid."

"Well, I can't kiss people's lips just like that!" Mayrithia protested. "What if he rejected me?"

"Sometimes you _can_ ," Nyava retorted. "That was one such time; do you think I _asked_ for permission when I sat on Werner's lap and began to disrobe him? Or do you think _he_ asked permission to plant hundreds of kisses throughout my body?"

Mayrithia blushed violet at the vivid image, taking a nervous swig of her drink.

Nyava smiled in amusement at her reaction, but chose not to tease her further: "The issue is that you're not sure of what he wants, and I'm not so sure of what you want."

"I want…I want to see him smile, I want to see the things he showed me with my own eyes, I want to see human space; I want to…" she bit her lips, searching for the words. "I want to swim with him beneath pale waterfalls, I want to feel his eyes on me, I want to explore him, and let myself be _explored_."

' _Maidens…_ ' Nyava thought as she studied her, legs crossed as she leaned back on her couch.

"If you never tell him this, how do you suppose he will know?" The older asari asked after a few moments of silence. "What if he briefly goes back to human space, but then finds an elysian girl, and then disappears _?_ "

"But then how can I tell him?" Mayrithia's eyes sought for reassurance. "I should have told him earlier, I was just… _unsure_ ; and I'm still in service of the Republics, I can't abandon the Commandos yet."

"Talk with the Councilor," Nyava offered. "Maybe she can pull some strings for you; you've been assigned to her detail after all."

" _Irissa?_ " Mayrithia exasperated. "That could _possibly_ work with Tevos. And what would I tell her, that I'm dumping one of the most prestigious career opportunities because I'm _in love?_ "

"You know her less well than you think." Nyava replied. "Irissa is a cold and calculating politician, but she is also asari, and she was once a maiden." She allowed a smile. "We're not _turians_."

"But I don't want to terrorize you Mayrithia, really," she amended. "It might not come to that; he seemed to be really attracted to you."

"Attracted…" Mayrithia mused. "I don't think that's enough, I want him to want _me_ , not only my body."

"And what makes you think that is the case?" The Spectre said. "I saw the way he looked at you, and you did as well; _go for it_."

"Trust me," she continued after a moment. "Do you really think your friendship with him went unnoticed by the humans, we've spoken of _this_ before; everything will fall in place."

"Are you sure?" Mayrithia dared to hope.

"I am." Nyava's expression was smug, as she refilled their glasses with the alcoholic drink. "Call it Spectre instinct."

* * *

 _Faestok_.

The relay's ellipses spun in gyroscopic synchronicity, gathering dark energy at their convergent point.

Around the relay, in a staccato manner, and spread across millions of kilometers of each other, scores of recon drones emerged, already igniting their engines.

The space faring drones were built in sleek shapes to deflect radar waves, nearing 25m in length, equipping nothing more than fuel, sensors, and a command module.

Being compact, free of constraints such as consumables or living space, and with paper-thin armor placed solely to shield from the background radiation, the resulting thrust-weight ratio made them effectively the fastest starships in the galaxy.

Light and plasma extended kilometers behind the vessels as they accelerated further and further.

State-of-the-art VIs 'manned', tasked with the evaluation of enemy forces beyond the relay; a suicidal mission and waste of lives if the small starships were anything but synthetic constructs.

Radar, ladar, thermographic sensors, all focused on the vast void around them, as software searched inside the received radiation waves for glimpses of their adversaries, wherever they could be.

Already they picked off distinct signatures around the relay itself and beyond, a mass of escorts and capital ships ready to jump thousands of lightyears at a moment's notice.

And soon they were under the scrutiny of the Imperial fleet itself, their own sensors extending their reaches to paint them with inescapable waves of cosmic radiation or with digital eyes tracking the plumes of fire behind them.

Systems accounted ships and catalogued them according to existing intelligence, but soon after the Imperial ships had seen themselves, any ship in range focused their gamma lasers on them, ionizing radiation shooting to meet their targets.

Flashes of deadly light indicated the death of drone after drone, beams of directed energy melting their external armor in the blink of an eye, turning internal components into slag.

Salarian vessels hailing from the Solus clan, spread themselves throughout the system and the near the relay, utilized their speed to chase the drones in multiple trajectories across the void, firing their own ultraviolet lasers at the intruders or blasting with their kinetic artillery.

Already the VIs inside the starships beamed their collected data to the relay, with the ancient construct forwarding the information to the other side without distinguishing sides in the conflict, simply performing the tasks required by yet another user in the millennia of its existence.

As soon as the last drone had finished transmitting it's collected data, a metallic slug impacted its kinetic barriers, depleting them instantly and piercing through the hull; breaching the bow armor, it fragmented and flattened, carrying with it tens of thousands of small fragments in hypervelocity.

A narrow cone of death made of metal either flashed into plasma or still white-hot.

The command module was pierced by thousands of bullets made of heated tungsten, ripping the systems and circuits apart, with the remaining projectiles piercing the fusion power plant before continue to escape the ship through the aft.

The reactor was irreversibly damaged, and the fusion chain got out of control, the energy that was carefully directed at powering the ship was now released in all its glory in every direction.

The drone ceased to exist, vanishing faster than the blink of a salarian's eyes, having fulfilled the reason for its construction.

* * *

 _Pallas._

Ayda silently sliced vegetables on the small wooden chopping block, raising it and dumping the small parts on the silvery cooking pot; skilled and lithe hands flying across the counter picking ingredients and preparing them as she desired.

A small quad-rotor drone had delivered her groceries earlier, stopping by on her apartment's balcony and landing on the ground; she signed the receipt by pressing her palm on a small interface on the drone, which then quickly returned to its 'home' after delivering.

She had a white apron tied around her hips, wearing a black tight fit shirt underneath and blue jeans, but remaining barefoot at the comfort of her own home.

"…so, what are your future plans?" She heard Fernando say from the living room, intermixed with the sounds of the television; a news anchor spoke, but the sound only reached her ears as murmurs.

"Hmm I am currently assigned to a few companies here for legal interaction between the government and them, so maybe I'll stay here in Pallas for the time being." She now had moved on to the meat part of the soup, cutting it into small cubes, applying light seasoning as she did. "But maybe I can move up, you know, with a really recommendation, a few strings pulled?"

"Oh, so _that's_ why you've been serving full course meals for the past days."

"Don't be silly." Ayda giggled, adding the meat cubes to the steam cooker, sealing the pot and turning on the fire. "I'm just exploring my options."

She washed her hands quickly, drying them on her apron, untying it and setting on the granite counter.

Walking to the living room, the sight was one all too familiar, and she paused: Fernando was sitting on the principal couch, feet extended to rest on her glass center table, a small bottle of beer on one hand with a smartphone on the other.

The day was cold outside, snow had finally begun to fall on New Caledon, and soon the southernmost reaches of Pallas would fall in deep winter; still, the AC kept the temperature at a cool 23°C inside the apartment.

The MID spy had stayed for far longer than a single week, ever since arriving on the planet.

Days turned into weeks, full of laughter and secretive looks, of longing and hesitation, and she became accustomed to his presence, to the usual and particular quirks every being had at the comfort of their own home.

She watched as he finally managed to catch sleep on the second bedroom, staying by his side as he sweat cold, reliving unwanted memories, at times waking up without breath, eyes darting in a daze at the dark bedroom until they fell upon her.

She watched as his face bloomed in joy and satisfaction as she prepared her best recipes, anxiousness vanishing until he gave his approval, once again searching her face for something she still did not know.

Involuntarily, a small smile crept upon her lips.

"Maybe more prestigious corporations to serve as clients, perhaps living closer to Elysia," she moved to stand behind him on the couch, placing her hands near his shoulders on the back rest. " _Maybe_ …"

Fernando was barefoot as well, and instead of jeans he wore black sweatpants,

completely at ease with himself at her home.

He motioned to look back at her, not fully turning his head, but she knew she had his attention. "Maybe what?"

"I don't know…" she bit her lower lip, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "Well, what do _you_ plan to do?"

"I've got several weeks until… _re-evaluation_." He hesitated for a second. "I plan to return to active service."

"Well, that's good." A few painful heartstrings were tugged, and she found that this new fact bothered her.

" _Yeah_ ," he sat straighter in the couch, forgetting the beer and the news channel on the flatscreen and removing his feet from the center table.

Ayda circled the couch, moving into the living room proper, bare feet tickled as they stepped on the rich rug; she walked to the smaller sofa, sitting and bringing her knees up to her chest.

Her body language was an open book to Fernando, who had his eyes fixed on her.

"Well, I'm sure you're going to do great." She said, eyes landing everywhere but on him. "I'm glad I could help you with…everything."

"With the nightmares, Ayda, with the insomnia, with the crippling guilt; you can say it." Her eyes finally met his. "I'm going to be sent to the Citadel when the war ends, I'll be on the permanent diplomatic team."

"Oh, wow, that is… _great_ ," her eyes left his gaze once again. "I mean, I can't imagine a better place for your career to grow save Terra, I'm really happy for you."

Fernando waited a few seconds for dramatic effect: "I want you to come with me."

" _What?_ " Her eyes shot up once again, as he expected they would.

He placed the beer atop the table, turning fully to her. "We're both two adults, Ayda; you understood what I meant."

"I have thought about you ever since we met on that yacht," he continued, studying her non-verbal cues. "You're a gentle, compassionate, and beautiful woman, which for some reason cares about me."

"I am not an innocent person, I am not a charming prince, I-"

"Don't be stupid," she interrupted him, nearly a whisper, while looking away embarrassed. "You _know_ I love you."

"With all your flaws, with all your baggage, with everything that you've done, with what you told me and even with what you did not." She continued, gathering courage as she went. "You've came to me when you needed help the most, you've…you were not simply a passerby meeting in which I kept sending messages to, staying awake at night wondering if I would ever see you again."

"I don't want to be separated from you again." He said with finality, after hearing her speak. "You became the sun in my life, Ayda."

She was silent, and her heart beat against her chest, turning her cheeks and ears into light shades of red, while a millions thoughts raced through her head.

"Do you really _mean it_? Is this an assignment as well?" She wanted to believe it wasn't, pulling a lock of hair behind a pointed ear.

"Let me prove it to you," he said, voice dropping an octave.

Fernando fixed his eyes into her own, moving with calculated measure to her own sofa, as her blush deepened with each passing step.

Ayda watched as the man approached, seconds turning into hours, and surprised both of them by springing to her feet and enveloping the man in her arms, and before her courage ran out, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss that he promptly returned.

Fears melted away, uncertainty vanished, and their breath quickened, and slowly, their kisses turned from desperate and hungry to tender, their world being reduced to that single room.

As the snow fell outside, they melted into each other's arms.

* * *

 _Irissa's office, Citadel._

Ever slowly the station spun, five arms extended kilometers and kilometers away from the Presidium, millions of beings from multiple species walking through its many levels, lives and stories in flux across polymetallic alloy and composite ceramic-carbon constructions.

Beyond the reaches of the masses of both wealthy and dispossessed, the near future of the galaxy was discussed.

"Our operatives report a massive buildup of naval forces on both ends of the Faestok-Irbol pair, Irbol being the entry system to the Annos Basin cluster; they estimate that nearly two thirds of all Vaerdall dreadnoughts not in Sesoln space are being moved into Irbol, with the ones already there in trans-relay assault positioning." Irissa read aloud as her eyes scanned the haptic terminal on her desk, reading out the RIS report. "Thermographic sweeps originating from the refueling station on Faestok report the presence of twenty four Jupiter-class dreadnoughts in-system, clustered in battle formation nearby the F-I relay pair."

"So far, salarian reinforcements come from the Akart relay connection, that is, they are Solus affiliated; a substantial number of escorts, but no capital ships as of yet. They reiterate that a strike on Sur'Kesh is imminent." She finished.

"What does that mean?" Irissa's eyes rose from the display, settling on the human 'diplomat' who occupied Tevos's usual seat.

Another day of peace talks had come and gone, and she now spoke with him alone.

"It means that we plan to lure Vaerdall and Hierarchy forces into another defeat, by giving the impression that a joint strike on the Annos Basin cluster is our next course of action."

"And it's not?" Irissa questioned. "If that's the impression you wanted to give, then well done, you've succeeded."

"In fact, no," Filip answered. "Even being one relay jump away, naval operations at the heart of salarian territory would stretch supply lines unnecessarily. Our plan is to draw them to us, instead of seeking them out."

"It might seem rushed, fast-paced, compared to other historical campaigns," the human continued. "But this is a different type of war: there aren't hordes of krogan or rachni raining on you."

"This is a contest of positioning and deception, of initiative and reaction." He explained, spreading his hands as he explained. "With occasional brushes of brute force, of course…but one of the most important aspects of this conflict is the battle inside our enemies' minds, beyond defeating him in the tridimensional space."

"An enemy who does not believe in victory is already defeated."

"And so, when they see their fleets break against yours, like waves break against a rocky shore, what will you do next?" Irissa sought for more answers.

"Preferably they will have common sense and see that the only option to avoid defeat is total mobilization of the other clans of the Ten in favor of Erlana, and that those clans might not answer to their call for arms once she is bargaining from a weakened position." The operative said. "Then, they will sue for ceasefire, and then we can actually debate the terms for the removal of the Vaerdall from their position inside the Union, given that the Sesoln issue is taken care of, then, we install the Solus in their place."

"If the turian commander pulls back all naval forces from Sesoln territory back to the relay pair for confrontation, his ground operations will be open for counterattack, if he does not, the brunt of the operation will fall on salarian hands, hands he does not entrust the security of his forces on," he declared. "Either way, they will assault our positions with overwhelming forces, salarian or turian, or both, and be destroyed by our trap."

"This hinges on the success of a few operations of course, but that isn't the point." He continued. "It will seem weird to the general public, seeing the events unfold, given that none of us have been divulging much about the situation, save for asari media; but that isn't a problem."

" _Operation Steel Rain_ , as we call it, was originally a different plan, but we adapted it very well given the circumstances." He finished. "Everything else failing, we assault Sur'Kesh."

Silence settled in the room, as Irissa's eyes remained trained on the human before her.

"The turians, in truth their volus financers, appear to be satisfied with the damage done so far, even if the Solus came out largely unharmed; the waves of war agitate the market." Irissa finally spoke. "Our own intelligence does not believe the Hierarchy is mobilizing for any sort of action beyond the current scope."

"Excellent," Filip said, rising from his seat, buttoning his suit. "If you'll excuse me, I must return to my ship for the moment."

"Very well," Irissa gently bowed her head in acknowledgement of his departure.

"We'll remain in contact, Councilor." With that he left, walking beyond the open door into the main body of the Tower itself, on his way to the human cruiser.

Irissa stood still for many moments, looking towards the door that that had long closed, before returning her attention back to the terminal.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, here it is, please tell me your thoughts either through a review or by PM. And thanks for reading!


End file.
